Choices
by ALEO
Summary: Making a choice is one thing, surviving the consequences that follow is something else - 3rd in Nelson series (Flight & Crosshairs) - Brad escapes from jail but danger for Don comes from an unexpected source - COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

**Spoilers:** Arrow of Time, Fifth Man, Pilot. Also brief mention of my fic Wildfire (vaguely - not necessary to read first)

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Eppes," Wright greeted. The Assistant Director in Charge of the FBI's Los Angeles Field Office stood and waved the entering agent to a seat.

"Sir," Special Agent Don Eppes responded, managing to keep the question from his tone as he sat. On the way up in the elevator he'd been wracking his brain for an explanation for this sudden summons to immediately present himself to the ADIC. Even more alarmingly he had been ushered straight into Wright's office.

"You would remember Bradley James Nelson," Wright stated. There was certainly no question in his voice knowing all too well that his agent would remember the young man. At the slight nod he continued, "He was being moved this morning to hospital."

"I received the alert," Don advised. The notification order placed on the prisoner ensured he was kept up to date on any and all movements into or out of any holding facility. Today he was off to hospital for a scan, some stomach issue or the other. So far Brad Nelson had been moved several times without mishap but he had a sudden suspicion that was not the case this time if Wright was telling him of it. "Something's happened hasn't it?"

"He's escaped."

Even expecting it a jolt still went through him but he simply nodded calmly. He'd felt much the same back when Buck Winters escaped with one very important difference; he felt no guilt over his dealings with this young man. The fact that Brad Nelson had escaped and was free meant a budding psychopath was on the loose. "The local office is on it?"

"They've detailed the job to Fugitive Recovery but are running out the inquiries on their end." Wright confirmed. "US Marshals have been advised and a BOLO is about to go out to all the locals between there and here."

Don stood. "Good. Then I'll get back to work if there's nothing else?"

"No, that's all. I've asked that they keep us fully updated."

"Sir."

Arriving back on his floor he stopped off at David and Colby's cubicle. He saw Nikki looking over from her desk and waved her over.

"Don?" David asked curiously as his boss seemed to hesitate once Nikki had joined them.

"Brad Nelson's escaped."

"That crazy dude who wants you dead?" Nikki got in first.

"When?" David demanded.

"This morning."

"From the prison?" Colby chimed in.

"On a movement to hospital."

"So what's the plan?" David asked.

Don knew what he meant but shrugged it off. "No plan. We keep on with what we're doing. Fugitive Recovery is on it along with the Marshal Service. A BOLO is due out any time now. There's a lot of ground between there and here."

David shook his head at Don's efforts to sound blasé. He'd interviewed the fugitive after he'd been arrested and the constant threats against his boss were too hard to ignore. "Not enough. He was very clear on his intentions if he ever got the chance."

"I know, David," Don said as he pushed off from the edge of David's desk. "But that was a long time ago and unless there are any further developments we keep on as normal. How did you go with contacting Sturgess?"

Despite asking for the report to distract his team he barely listened as David ran down what the witness had given him over the phone. He'd watched a couple of the interviews with Brad Nelson and clearly recalled the vehemence of the younger man's threats. His memory was no less clear despite it being almost four years ago. David finished up, stating that the witness was available now.

Don snapped himself out of it, "Colb, Nikki?"

"On it, boss." Nikki nodded at Colby and the two headed out to bring the witness in for a formal statement.

"Don?" David had noted Don zoning out during his report.

"We've done it before," Don said lightly. "They'll keep us updated with the hunt." Forestalling any further argument he returned to his own desk.

A few minutes later he saw the email come through. Clicking on the link he was rewarded with the latest image of the fugitive, taken this morning before he left the jail. The hard eyes stared straight into the camera with the head tilted back slightly in an all too common display of arrogance affected by many prisoners. It might have been a trick of his imagination but he thought he could see a slight smirk about the man's lips. It was a while before he scrolled down the alert and read the text. The transport van had been ambushed after another vehicle rammed into it at an intersection. The guards had tried to fight it out but one was killed and the other had been forced to surrender after also being shot. It wasn't clear how many offenders were involved, the injured guard had been taken straight to surgery but Brad was gone, his empty chains left in the van. He moved the email to his BOLO folder and got back to work.

The witness, Sturgess, had been and gone when he received a second summons to the top floor.

"An update?" David asked as he announced where he was going.

"I assume so."

David watched him go and was not so sure it was as simple as that, an update could be given far easier over the phone.

Once again Don was waved straight into the ADIC's office.

"They've completed the search of Nelson's cell," Wright said without preamble. It was normal procedure that a prisoner's cell would be thoroughly searched in such circumstances. "They've found a series of notes, more like diary entries actually. Their content is rather concerning."

"Let me guess, more threats against me," Don deduced. He would have been surprised if they hadn't found any.

"Indeed. You figure very prominently in those notes. He blames you for everything that has happened to his father and now his own incarceration." He waved his hand at his screen, "His last psych eval backs it all up, if anything he's become more fixated on you."

"A fan," Don tried for humour but it fell flat and Wright moved on.

"Those threats and his escape suggest you are at risk. We'll be making a further assessment as more information comes in but in the meanwhile," Wright paused briefly.

"I'll take the usual precautions."

"I'm thinking we need to start making preparations," Wright said with a shake of his head. Glancing at his watch he continued, "Go home and pack a bag."

"Sir, that's not necessary," Don protested, knowing where this was leading. It hadn't been necessary after Buck's escape so he didn't see why it was now.

Wright held up his hand to interrupt. "What we're finding so far is starting to indicate this may well be necessary, Agent. Some further information you may not be aware of; we can't seem to locate his father or his brother at the moment. It is early and we're not quite there yet but I'm going to start making the arrangements. Go home and pack. Expect a call with an all clear, or agents for a move. Until then stay put."

"But, sir," Don tried again. "We're in the middle of a case, I can't just leave."

"You got a cell, haven't you? And a laptop with full remote access, yes? If anyone from your section needs guidance they can call. You go home and you wait. I'm not having another Winters. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Don turned and left the office.

Wright's tone and the reminder about Buck left him no doubt that he had no say in the matter even if he still felt it was an overreaction. Buck had been out for revenge, just as it was likely Brad was now, but he'd not been sent home to prepare for protective custody last time. Entering the elevator after a wait he grudgingly had to allow that it was probably because of how he'd handled Buck's threats that Wright was taking such a hard line. He still thought it potential overkill, Brad was certainly insistent on his desire for revenge but it had not gone so well for him last time. The sensible thing now he was in the wind was to stay there, perhaps make for Mexico as he'd intended once he was done last time. Brad was smart enough to recognise that showing himself in LA was a sure path to recapture.

The elevator deposited him back on his floor. Much as it grated a clear order had been given by his boss and that was that. Letting out a deep sigh he strode out and once again called his team together.

David nodded once Don had finished, he'd been expecting something like this. "When you're ready we'll come with."

"No," Don countermanded. "We're finally making progress on this job and I'm not having this set us back. Stay and keep on it. I'll have my laptop so send me all the reports and I want regular updates."

"At least one of us can-" Nikki started.

"No. We're not letting this crew get away because of one fugitive," Don said firmly. "Keep on it. I'll let you know if anything changes."

David followed Don as he went to his desk. "Are you sure you should be alone? If the ADIC is leaning towards protective custody you should have someone with you."

"Even if there was any way he could be near the city this quickly he's far less likely to find me at home than here, David. I'll be fine."

David reluctantly got back to work as Don quickly cleared his desk, signing some urgent reports before shutting down his computer. He gathered up a few final things and headed out.

As he'd earlier promised he took precautions, despite the fact the timings and distances involved suggested it would be nigh on impossible for Brad to have reached Los Angeles as yet. He checked the traffic behind him more carefully and took a few different turns and even a run on a freeway before driving into the secure basement parking lot at his apartment building. A scan of the lot showed nothing out of the ordinary and his apartment door had no signs of tampering. Despite his words to David he put his stuff down just inside the door and did a quick sweep, all was exactly as he'd left it this morning.

Before he did anything else he knew it was time to make the call he'd been avoiding.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi, Dad."

"_Donny? What are you doing? Aren't you at work?"_ Alan asked, clear puzzlement in his voice. Whilst he loved hearing from his son a call in the middle of the day like this was unusual.

"Yeah, well, sort of," Don started then explained why he may need to disappear for a while.

"_Oh my God,"_ Alan finally breathed after his son finished. He remembered the name Brad Nelson all too well. _"Why aren't they protecting you now? What are they waiting for, an engraved invitation?"_

"Dad," Don objected. His hand automatically ran down his face as he paced across his living room. "Listen, there's nothing concrete at all about this. He was probably just blowing off steam. It's not the first time someone we've arrested has been disgruntled."

"_Disgruntled? Is that what you call it?"_ Alan countered. _"He went to a lot of effort last time."_

"He had a specific goal in mind then, remember?" This was so not going the way he'd hoped it would.

"_He very nearly pulled it off too,"_ Alan responded. He knew exactly what the fugitive's goal had been just as he knew what he could well be working towards now, _"He's dangerous, Donny."_

On that he had to agree, remembering all too clearly what Brad was capable of. It had only been through the intervention of Scott Nelson, Brad's father that he'd escaped relatively lightly when he'd been at the young man's mercy. "I know, Dad."

There was a heavy sigh. _"Look, at least promise me that you'll take precautions until you hear for sure."_

"I will," he glanced at the chain across the door, a feature he rarely used while not sleeping. He was taking it seriously.

"_Call me,"_ Alan ordered. Exposure to his son's work had given him an understanding into how protective custody worked so he amended his words, _"Or have someone call me."_

"I will," Don promised.

"_Alright. Have you called your brother?"_

His hand rubbed through his hair again at the question. It had been hard enough telling his father about the potential threat and how seriously the Bureau was taking it. His father had learned however to accept the consequences of his son's job. Charlie on the other hand was used to getting involved. "He's got late lectures today. I thought that, perhaps when he got home, you-"

"_I'll tell him,"_ Alan let him off the hook.

"And Dad, if they ramp this up I want you to stay clear. Both of you. Don't go to the office; don't come around here to check the apartment."

There was another heavy sigh as Alan heard the concern and finally knew his son was taking the threat seriously despite trying to down play it._ "I understand, son. I'll keep your brother from running over."_

"Thanks, Dad."

His next call was to Robin but locked away at her high level conference in Washington he only got her voice mail. Contact with her had been very sporadic due to the tight scheduling during the week she had already been away he wasn't surprised. Much the same was expected for this second and final week. He left as detailed a message as he could before the time limit for the recording was reached.

After packing a bag and setting it by the door Don got back to work. The rest of the afternoon he spent working through various reports sent to him by agents in his section and handling numerous phone calls. He closely monitored his team's current case and had regular updates from David, though he suspected his agent was as much keeping tabs on him as updating him. It was almost dark when he finally received the call from the ADIC.

"_Packed?"_

He started shutting down the laptop. "When?"

"_They should be there in a few. They'll give you the details." _

"My family?"

"_For now we've asked LAPD for extra patrols and have alerted campus police. We'll keep an eye on them but our profiles at this stage don't indicate they are in any danger."_

Don wasn't so sure; his going into protective custody could force the fugitive to target his family to draw him out. But for now he had to accept the profiler's read of the situation, they would have more information to hand than he did. "I'll let them know."

He sent a brief text to Robin with the update. He'd not needed to inquire after her security; for one thing he very much doubted she would figure on Brad's radar. For another, she was at a secure conference, in virtual lockdown for the duration. She would be more than safe.

The call to his father he managed to keep quick but he'd only just hung up when there was a knock on his door. Given the situation he didn't immediately look through the spy hole but instead stopped to the side of his door, "Yes?"

"Agents Brown and Stone," a male voice announced.

Don looked down at movement and saw an ID folder appear under his door. He slid it across the floor with his foot before picking it up. It was legit. After risking a check through the spy hole he opened the door, handing the ID back to Stone.

Closing the door behind them he raised an eyebrow in question.

"Hotel room for tonight, sir, with us," Stone explained. "The office tomorrow as usual but with a detail assigned if you need to go out."

Don nodded, it was workable. Far better than the total exclusion he feared possible but it was still early as yet, the obviously staged increase in security as time went by testament to that. "After that?"

"A safe house is being prepared. If he's not returned to custody by tomorrow afternoon the subject could well be in the area. We'll gather your family and secure you all there until the threat is over."

There wasn't anything he could say to that other than, "Okay." He collected his bag and laptop. "If it's business as usual tomorrow, I'll take my vehicle and meet you out the front."

The other agent stepped forward as Stone opened the door and checked the hall. "I'll come down with you," Brown said. He didn't offer to take Don's bags as his role meant he needed to keep his hands free.

Irritated, Don shook his head. He had to accept the move and the protection outside but he was still in his own building. "It's a secure lot. Wait outside with your partner, I'll be out soon. Black suburban," he added unnecessarily, they should have been briefed.

Glancing at Stone Brown received a reluctant nod, "Ditto. See you outside in five."

Relieved Don followed them out to the elevator. Whilst he outranked them both they could override him on security issues. In this case however, given that their intel suggested there was little probability of Brad being anywhere near Los Angeles as yet Stone didn't push it.

They rode down in the same elevator, the other two agents stepping off at the ground floor before Don went to the basement alone.

Once again all looked to be normal and he unlocked his suburban putting his bags inside. Closing the rear door he walked around to the driver's side.

He noticed the soft footfalls behind him just as they stopped.

"Hello, Agent."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

After the first flush of alarm Don let out a breath in relief as he recognised the voice. It wasn't Brad Nelson.

At his next breath his apprehension rose, he had not expected to hear this voice again, let alone be only a few feet away from its owner. This did not bode well, especially not now. It also explained why the FBI hadn't been able to track him down. "I thought you didn't want to see me again?"

"I don't. But I have no choice."

Don's hand still gripped the butt of his Glock. He wondered whether he should draw it or if it was already too late. He found himself not wanting to turn and find out just what his situation really was even though he had a fair idea. "Do I?"

"It's back to this again, but I'm sorry Agent. I really am."

"You said you had made your last apology to me. You were going to make your life over."

There was a sigh, "All true. I'm glad to see my message was passed on so clearly. But there are times when things don't go to plan. I'm sure you understand."

He didn't want to understand, even if he feared he did. "Walk away, Nelson."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. I need your help."

His grip tightened on his weapon, "And if I don't want to help you?"

Now came the indication of how much danger he was in, the distinctive metallic click sounding from all too close behind him. His eyes closed briefly as he realised Nelson was close, but not close enough for any disarming techniques he might try. Opening his eyes and taking a deep breath he came to a decision, he wasn't going to give in quite so easily this third time. He was healthy, not semi-conscious and injured like their first encounter after the plane crash, nor was he suffering from heat exhaustion and under a sniper's eye like the second time at Pershing Square.

"I didn't think you would cooperate voluntarily, Agent. I had to come prepared," Nelson explained. His voice hardened as he answered the question posed earlier, "You don't have a choice."

Don slowly turned having shown the man enough of his back during this conversation. Nelson hadn't taken advantage of the opportunity he'd been given to simply walk away. As he expected Nelson was standing two yards away, a SIG-Sauer semi-automatic handgun in gloved hands pointed right at him. It seemed Nelson no longer had any reservations at holding him at gunpoint, the gun steady. Then again compared with ramming his own Glock under his jaw this was almost civilised.

"There is always a choice," Don countered. His right hand flexed slightly but remained in place, securely over the grip of his Glock.

Nelson noted the agent's actions and his meaning and braced himself, lifting the SIG up slightly, "I hope you make the right one, Agent."

"Would you really shoot me?"

"Do you doubt that I could?" Nelson replied instantly.

Unfortunately the man had him on that one, the quick response causing his pulse to spike. Last time he'd come to the conclusion that Nelson was prepared to carry through on his threat to kill him if pushed. The situation was a little different now however, some time had passed and his son was no longer in danger, or at least not immediate danger. He was perhaps not as sure that Nelson would shoot right at that moment, but that was a long way from thinking that he couldn't if he felt he must.

Another approach was called for, "Tell me what you want from me."

"For now, I want you."

Far from liking the sound of that Don shook his head, "I'm going to need more than that."

"How about, _we_ want you."

Sudden movements when being held at gunpoint were not generally considered smart but he spun at the unexpected new voice. Barely catching himself in time his Glock had only half cleared his holster. Somewhere a small part of him absently noted he had not been shot down in a hail of bullets as he recognised the second man.

Having spent part of the afternoon re-reading the files on the Nelson family he instantly remembered the other man's name, Paul. He hadn't changed much over the last few years. The youngest of the Nelson family was still the same medium build he'd been when he'd last seen him in Albuquerque, obviously not following his older brother's example in working out to bulk up. He knew that his earlier estimation of age had been wrong, Paul had actually been a year older than he'd thought at the time which would now make him around twenty-three. Don didn't know who he could have expected to be here backing Nelson up but it certainly wasn't the man's youngest son even if he had also been reported to be in the wind. Speaking of back-up, the agent looked the young man over closely but didn't see a weapon. Unfortunately that didn't mean that he wasn't armed, a gun could easily be tucked into his rear waistband and he had to assume that was the case given the circumstances. The younger man was also wearing surgical gloves, a detail that only alarmed him further. A quick glance over at Nelson showed the older man watching but not interrupting. He seemed happy to let this run its course.

"You argued against this last time, Paul."

"I know. It was wrong back then. Just as this is now," Paul swallowed nervously and shifted his feet. Clearly he did not want to be here but was making no effort to prevent whatever was going down, instead actively participating. "Dad must do this, we must do this."

"Why?" How could they possibly be forced into this confrontation? In accordance with Nelson's wishes and his own preference he'd had no contact with any of the Nelson family since the committal proceedings for trial. "And do what? Kidnap a Federal Agent?"

"Yes."

"Okay. That explains the what," Don managed after a moment at the bluntness of the reply. It was clear that they meant to take him with them. "But not the why. What you intend to achieve?"

"We don't have time for this now, Agent," Nelson interrupted.

"Make the time," Don snapped in sudden anger. He backed up a pace, putting his back against his SUV. He hadn't noticed Paul was nearby before he'd made his appearance, there could be more people at this party that he hadn't yet spotted. He finally made a decision and his right hand jerked as he drew the Glock the rest of the way. He didn't raise it but it was now clear of the holster and one step closer to being in play. If Paul was really unarmed he still had a chance.

Nelson immediately responded, firming his aim, "I really don't want to have to hurt you."

"You have a damned funny way of showing it."

"You are still alive," Nelson countered. "I have managed to keep you that way twice now. You should be able to trust me enough to do it again."

"Both those times you were as much a victim of circumstance as I was. This time you are instigating this. This time you are the threat. Walk away and I'll keep myself alive."

There was a silence that dragged on for several long seconds. Nelson shifted and started talking, "Alright, Agent. You want the why?"

"That would be nice."

"My son is why."

Don didn't even look at Paul; he knew that was not the son that Nelson was referring to. "Your son is on the run."

"I know. He's called me."

"When? Where is he?" Whilst he hadn't exactly forgotten that he was being held at gunpoint Don temporarily put that aside to address the main issue, the recapture of a highly dangerous escaped prisoner.

"He called me just after his escape. He told me he's coming here. He told me he's going to kill you, Agent."

Wright had been correct, the threats were solid. Don stared challengingly at the older man, "So you're good with that now?"

Nelson's forehead crinkled in confusion as his gun drooped slightly. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts to phrase his question, "What do you mean?"

"Let me put it this way, what are you going to do if I let you take me? Hand me over to your son again?"

"No!" Nelson appeared shocked. He glanced at his younger son before turning his attention back to the agent, "How could you think that?"

Don waved his free left hand at the weapon still pointed at him, "What else should I think? You did the last two times."

The older man's mouth opened then closed as he thought the agent's words over. There was a sigh and a momentary pause as he looked down at the concrete. He straightened a few moments later. "Okay. I deserved that. That's not going to happen this time. I am going to protect you from him. And as I told you before, I want your help."

Don resisted the urge to look at his watch; surely the five minutes he'd given his escort were up. "I have my own protection waiting outside."

Nelson looked momentarily alarmed at that. He gestured at his son and the younger man adjusted his position slightly to keep an eye on possible approaches.

"Not doing a good job are they?" Nelson responded as he regained his composure. "If we can get to you, so can Brad."

Another point Don had to give Nelson. It had been his own fault though, sending both agents back out to their vehicle whilst he went alone to his SUV.

"What exactly is it that you want my help for?" He demanded, trying to spin out the encounter as long as possible before it came to the inevitable head. When Stone and Brown came to investigate the odds would be in his favour.

"I want, no I _need_ you to help us find Brad before the FBI or cops do."

"How? You take me and I'll have access to nothing. I'll be useless to you."

Nelson shook his head. "You're smarter than that. You'll find a way to access your databases."

Don couldn't help the shake of his head at that. It wouldn't work, Nelson just didn't understand. Not given the current circumstances. Assuming they managed to take him with them his disappearance would be immediately discovered and known to be involuntary. Part of the procedure after that would be to shut down his access to internal databases as a security precaution.

The older man continued, partially interpreting the agent's meaning, "And if you can't I'm sure you'll figure out how to find him before they do. If they get to him first they'll kill him. We find him and we have a chance to save him."

Memory of how he'd been treated whilst in Brad's hands resurfaced. As he'd recalled earlier it had been mostly Nelson's intervention at the time that had prevented him from being seriously injured. Brad had clearly stated his intention to make Don pay for Nelson's arrest and jailing after the plane crash. He'd started on that path first by setting up the scenario in the square exposing him without shelter to the heat-wave sun for several hours. He'd followed up by wounding him with a sniper rifle before taking a more hands on approach. Don forgot who he was speaking to, reacting to the concept of the budding psychopath being rescued.

"He doesn't deserve to be saved."

Nelson's grip briefly tightened on his gun but otherwise he appeared not to react to the words. "I understand why you would feel that way, really I do. But he is my son. It also doesn't change the fact that we need your help."

"There are agents and marshals out looking for him as we speak. They'll find him and put him back in jail where he belongs."

"They will kill him."

Don shook his head. That was not the way they did things. "We don't want that. We'll take him alive if we can."

"I know you will try. I also know that my son won't come quietly."

"Neither will I." Don finally raised his weapon, pointing it back at the man in front of him. The time had come. His protection detail was not coming and he was now becoming actively worried about them, wondering if there had been outside interference. Even more worryingly Nelson simply nodded at his reaction, appearing otherwise unfazed.

"You are more sensible than my son, Agent, and even he knew when he was outgunned," Nelson briefly looked sideways. "Paul."

Flicking his own gaze to the side Don saw Paul reach behind him and pull out a revolver. This second weapon was raised to point unsteadily in his direction. From a tactical perspective things had just gone from bad to pretty much impossible. The two men had him at a severe disadvantage; they were far enough apart that he couldn't cover both at once. No matter who he pointed his weapon at the other had a clear shot. He turned his head slightly and had another look at Paul whilst still keeping his own weapon aimed at the older Nelson.

"You won't shoot," Don stated.

"I will do what I have to for my brother," With visible effort Paul stilled his weapon.

Don's eyes narrowed as he reassessed the younger man. Back on Mount Taylor it had been obvious the two brothers did not get along but obviously now when it was coming to a situation where his older brother was likely to be killed Paul had reconsidered his position. As a brother himself and knowing the lengths he would go to if necessary to protect Charlie he suddenly found himself believing that Paul could go the distance. His gaze flicked back to the older Nelson before returning to the son. His own gun hand started to waver, no longer certain which threat he should be trying to address.

"I know you understand that, Agent," Nelson added once he saw the first signs of uncertainty. "I've done some research, I know who you are."

Knowing it was pointless Don had to try again, "You would shoot me to protect me from Brad? To force me to help you?" There was another use for him that Nelson had not yet raised but he didn't get to voice it as the other man was already speaking.

"If we have to and I won't be taking you to hospital this time," Nelson answered firmly. His normally warm and friendly voice had suddenly turned chilly. The time for talk was over. "Put your gun down. Now."

As far as Don could see, there were limited options open to him. He could shoot Paul at which point Nelson would shoot him. Or, he could shoot Nelson at which point Paul would very likely shoot him. He may have some lingering doubts as to Paul's determination to follow through with his threats to use his weapon to obey Nelson, but Don could be fairly sure that if he shot the boy's father in front of him there would be no hesitation. Trying to shoot his way out was a sure fire way of getting himself killed or at best seriously wounded and if Nelson was to be believed, taken anyway. That led to the remaining two options, the first being that he could negotiate his way out which had failed. That left the second which seemed to be the only viable way open to him. He would have a chance, he was uninjured and healthy as he'd reminded himself earlier and this would be his best way of remaining that way. Whilst it was a totally different situation than what he'd found himself in the last two times it was still not good, far from ideal in fact, but there was nothing else he could do.

He found it to be one of the hardest things he had ever done. Moving slowly he raised his left hand and twisted his right so that he showed his palms to Nelson, the Glock now pointing safely away and held loosely.

Nelson appeared relieved. His gun jerked slightly, "Put it down, Agent. Then turn around."

It went against every instinct but he slowly crouched and put the weapon on the concrete. He raised his eyes as his right hand released the Glock and stared Nelson in the face, it was a challenge. As he'd done before, he was going to hold the man to his word even if he was no longer as sure as he'd once been that he could trust him. Nelson's reply was a nod at which point Don rose and after a final glance to the younger son turned around and faced his SUV, hands up at shoulder height.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

There was a scrape then a skittering noise that his heightened senses identified as his weapon being kicked aside to slide, spinning away out of his reach. There was a soft footfall, then another before he felt the man's presence immediately behind him. He looked up and stared at their reflections in the glass as Nelson hesitated as if waiting for something. With a sigh, Don leant forwards, bracing his weight on his hands as he assumed the position.

Nelson moved in the final pace and started running his spare hand over the agent's body. Don was trained in and had practiced manoeuvres that would have given him a shot at disarming Nelson but he could still see Paul out of the corner of his eye, standing back and providing cover. Against those odds Don could only remain still as the search continued with his wallet, badge and cell phone located and taken along with his keys. The spare magazine for his gun was tossed after the weapon. Finally Nelson's hand unsnapped his handcuff pouch and pulled out the cuffs.

Nelson met his gaze in the reflection. "We are going for a ride, Agent. I would rather you be as comfortable as possible."

Don understood what Nelson meant; he was going to be cuffed. His response now would make the difference between having his hands restrained in front of his body or behind. He didn't normally make promises he didn't intend to keep but under the circumstances, under duress, he would take whatever advantages he was offered. "I've surrendered. I won't fight you."

The handcuffs were held out and he carefully took them with his right hand, pushing away from his SUV until he stood upright once again.

"Cuff yourself. Let me see before you lock them."

The order was almost a repeat of one he'd issued to Nelson back in Albuquerque after their first encounter. Feeling a kind of reverse déjà vu the agent lowered his hands and fitted the cuffs around his own wrists. He then turned carefully to one side and held them up for Nelson's inspection. His gaze locked on the younger son and the weapon still pointed unwaveringly at him. Nelson holstered the SIG and checked each cuff in turn, tightening one slightly before twisting the locks.

Nelson once again drew his gun and held it on the agent as Paul gathered up the discarded Glock and the magazine, unloading the weapon before tucking it away. Now there was no overt evidence of foul play, Don's detail would only find his SUV and no sign of how their charge had disappeared.

When Paul had finished Nelson took hold of Don's right elbow and tugged gently, starting them moving. "Thank-you. I really didn't want to hurt you."

Don let himself be led along but he turned his head to glare at the older man. The man's politeness in the face of his less than polite action served to fire his anger. "Nelson, shut up. I don't want to hear it. Just do whatever it is you're going to do with me but stop pretending to be my friend."

"I'm not your friend, far from it. But this doesn't have to be any more unpleasant than necessary," Nelson answered by way of explanation.

Reminding himself that he had to be careful not to push Nelson too far Don took his own advice and shut up. If he was too argumentative Nelson could see that as a warning of potential resistance and take further steps to prevent any move Don may make. He needed to keep his options as open as possible, ready to act when a situation presented itself. To do that he had to control himself, to make it appear that he had truly surrendered rather than have simply given up his gun.

They had reached a red car parked a few spaces away. When he'd stepped off the elevator Don hadn't seen the unfamiliar vehicle as it was parked hidden behind his SUV from that angle. Paul opened the back door and Don was pushed gently into the back seat, a hand on his head to prevent him striking his head on the door frame. Nelson moved quickly around the other side, taking up the seat beside the agent before Paul took his place behind the wheel. The door locks thunked gently, an extra precaution to the child locks that were almost certainly in place. Don noted a bag in the middle of the seat and experienced a chill as he recognised it as a full sized EMT's medical kit. Nelson really had been prepared to shoot him if he felt it necessary. He looked up and saw that his realisation had been noted.

Starting the engine Paul pulled out of the space and headed for the exit. Driving up the ramp they stopped, waiting as the roller automatically lifted. When they moved forward Don felt Nelson tense beside him, this was a risk point; the agents waiting for Don could spot them and take action, assuming they were looking for a sedan with three people inside. Head swivelling Don looked around, trying to spot his detail and finally found the black Suburban parked a short distance away. The two agents were talking to a woman with a backpack and a map apparently asking for directions. As Paul turned and headed away down the street the two agents took no notice and Don sighed in disappointment. A standoff or a pursuit would have been preferable to his vanishing unnoticed into the night.

"Don't be hard on them, Agent," Nelson suddenly spoke as he relaxed.

"You set that up?" He asked in surprise before remembering Nelson had seemingly not known the agents were there.

"No, just fortunate. Their distraction is better than this going bad."

It had already gone bad as far as Don was concerned. He was once again at Nelson's mercy, surviving twice did not mean he could expect the same result a third time round. Once again Nelson was operating beyond what could have been expected from his background. The man had spent the majority of his life classed as a low level felon but clearly he had the ability to do whatever he felt necessary to achieve his goals.

They continued down the road for about fifteen minutes before pulling into a basic motel. The budget two storey premises was no different the one literally next door, down the road or the hundreds scattered around LA. The car slid into a spot in front of the third unit along. Don was surprised that they would hole up here, so close to his apartment complex and well inside any net that would be thrown up once his detail realised he was missing.

Despite being early in the evening there was no-one moving around even if a goodly portion of the motel rooms had lights on. Paul released the door locks before climbing out, digging in his pocket for something. There was a flash of metal and a large tag, it was a room key. The young man opened the ground level room door and he saw there was a dim glow as if a small lamp had been left on. Paul returned to the car and opening his father's door before moving around and waiting outside the agent's.

"Agent?" There was a clear question in the word.

"You want me to go quietly," Don deduced. Many of the car spaces were filled, if he kicked up a ruckus someone would investigate.

"That would be best."

"If I don't?"

Nelson pulled his gun from its holster but held it with his finger carefully away from the trigger guard. He wasn't going to use it to shoot with. "Then we'll just be helping a drunken friend back home."

Staring him in the eye a moment longer Don believed him. Once again Don reminded himself he needed to avoid underestimating the man. Nelson had made it abundantly clear that if he resisted he would be struck with the gun, rendering him if not unconscious then certainly stunned and unable to do anything further to protect himself. Any commotion could then be written off by anyone investigating exactly as Nelson had said. There was no benefit to him if he pushed the point just now. He closed his eyes for a moment before nodding. He would do as he was told.

"Good. Paul?"

Paul pulled the door open, taking hold of the agent's arm and helping him out. Keeping a firm grip he pushed the agent back against the side of the car as Nelson clambered out, bringing the EMT kit with him. Using the opportunity to leave evidence, Don twisted slightly and gained just enough space to press his fingertips to the front passenger window. If and when the car was dumped his prints would connect it to his disappearance. Nelson took over from his son, swapping the agent for the medical kit and Don soon found himself inside the low-rent motel room, not all that dissimilar to the one he'd been forced into at Brad's hands. Paul pushed the door to behind them and turned the lock, sliding the chain into place, adding to the steps Don would have to take if he were to try an escape. Finally the main lights clicked on and he saw that the heavy blinds were drawn; anything that happened in the room would not be visible to anyone outside.

Looking around he noted that the building was constructed from blocks reducing the amount of sound that would pass between the rooms. Provided they didn't get too noisy and no shots were fired, any neighbouring guest would hear nothing. On one of the beds a set of clothes were laid out, jeans, t-shirt and shoes. Curiously, other than that and what appeared to be an empty bag there was no sign that the room was inhabited.

"I'm going to let you take the cuffs off," Nelson started. "Then I want you to strip and put those on."

"What?" Of all the things he was expecting that was not one of them.

"I know all about your tracking devices, I've worn one remember? I need to be sure you don't have one on you."

"I don't," he said, wishing he had. At least there would have been some lead for the agents investigating his disappearance to follow, even if it only led here.

"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Nelson moved in front of the agent and looked him in the eye as he held up the key to the cuffs. "Same rules apply as before. Understand?"

At the prompt Paul once again pulled out his revolver, shifting so his father wasn't in his line of fire. He placed the kit he'd still been holding onto the end of the long bench built along the wall, serving to remind the agent of their seriousness.

"I got it," he said allowing anger to colour his voice. Moving slowly he lifted his hands, one held palm out to take the key. There were too many innocents that could get caught in the crossfire, assuming he was still in any condition to care after getting himself shot or beaten down.

The key was pressed into his hand before the older man moved back, bringing up his own gun. Keeping his movements slow and clear Don unlocked the cuffs, placing them and the key onto the edge of the second bed. After a moment's hesitation he started pulling at his tie, undressing in front of the two men was not what he wanted but he had no choice. Each item he also placed on the second bed until he was standing in his socks and boxers. He was reaching for the provided jeans when ordered to stop.

"Socks off and show me the bottom of your feet."

Reluctantly Don complied then waited with a rising sense of anxiety as it seemed there was about to be more. His jaw muscles jumped as he faced his kidnapper, hands clenched at his sides, and tried to work up a defiant glare.

"Turn out the waistband. I want to see there's nothing sewn in there."

Working to hide his relief at not being forced to strip completely naked he obeyed, folding down the waistband on his shorts and turning a slow circle without further order so Nelson could see that there was nothing hidden. He didn't try to hide his anger and couldn't hide his embarrassment but Nelson at least pretended not to notice.

"Good. You can get dressed now."

The jeans were a little looser than what he was used to, as was the shirt but they both fitted well enough that he wouldn't get a second glance in the street. He sat and reached hesitantly for his socks, when nothing was said he pulled them back on and slipped on the shoes. They were also a little big but better that than too small.

"The washroom is through there, if you want," Nelson offered when the agent finished.

He didn't really need to use the washroom but given that Nelson was now calling the shots and he had no idea when the next opportunity would arise he stood and made his way to the open door. Nelson shifted to allow him to pass but didn't appear as if he was going to follow him in, allowing him some privacy even as the order came to leave the door open. Once in the small room he understood why, there was no window, just a small wall mounted exhaust fan that spun into life the moment he turned on the light. There was no exit from the room other than the door. When he finished and was about to wash up he used the mirror to assess the location of his kidnappers. He could just see Paul which meant that from this angle his left hand was not visible. Pressing it against the glass of the mirror he left another set of his prints. It wasn't much but it was all he was able to do to mark his presence.

Stepping back out into the room he made sure his hands were in full view, not that there had been any weapons in the washroom he could have taken advantage of, even the towel rail was missing. It seemed Nelson and his son had prepared the room for just this use. He'd long since come to the conclusion they weren't staying here, this was just a stop along the way to search him for trackers.

Nelson looked up from where he was sorting through the contents of Don's wallet, the cards and cash spread out on the bench in front of him. He stood and approached, holding out the cuffs. Don took the restraints and once again placed them around his wrists, holding them up for Nelson's inspection. The locks were twisted and he was told to take a seat on the end of the empty bed as Nelson returned to his inspection of the wallet. The contents, including the cash were shoved back in before he turned his attention to the slim ID wallet, finding the electronic swipe card. This he tossed aside before putting the rest of the ID with the wallet. Don's keys were inspected next with his spare handcuff key removed before the remaining keys went the way of the swipe card.

"Watch," Nelson demanded.

Without comment Don managed somewhat awkwardly to undo the strap and toss it over. Nelson really was taking the search for any potential tracking devices very seriously. After a close inspection of the back it was tossed back, there was no sign it had been opened recently. Getting it back on he found Nelson holding up his cell phone. It was switched off, had been ever since it was taken from him and thus the GPS chip was also disabled.

"We need your help to find Brad," Nelson started, repeating himself from earlier. "I suspect you have numbers in here that you will need so we'll keep this for you to use. Unless you are going to refuse to cooperate in which case we'll leave it here."

Any opportunity was better than no opportunity. He would make whatever calls they wanted him to if it meant his phone was to be used and possibly detected, even if it was only down to a cell tower triangulation before the GPS chip came on-line.

"I'll make your calls," Don promised, breaking his silence. "I want Brad brought in, if that has to be through you then so be it."

"Good," Nelson sounded relieved as he gathered up the phone, wallet and ID, sliding them all into his jacket pockets. At the agent's arched eyebrow he explained. "We're not here to rob you and I know your badge is important to you. I'll just hang onto them, better you don't have any ID just for now."

The agent could see the advantage of that, if he were to escape a lack of ID would make it a harder for him to gain assistance, delaying him just that little bit that could allow for his recapture, especially if Nelson were to flash the FBI badge in the process. He simply dropped his eyebrow and waited.

"Our car is parked on the street just around the corner. Obviously, I'd prefer no fuss and appreciate you being cooperative this far but you will be getting into it one way or the other. Are we clear?"

Eyeing the two guns pointed his way it was more than clear. His options remained the same so he nodded his head. Once they got to wherever they were taking him he would be reassessing his position, hopefully there would be less possibility of civilians being hurt either due to remoteness or being later at night. He also realised ruefully that his best chance for escape had been earlier, when he'd first been bailed up in a deserted parking lot. He'd let the unexpectedness of the encounter distract him enough that he'd not seen it at the time. Although, as he stood and the guns tracked him, he decided that perhaps he'd not really had so much of a chance after all.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

This time as they moved the SIG was pressed firmly against his side with his arm held in a firm grip. Nelson was clearly not as prepared to take his word he'd cooperate as they had further to move in the open. The new car, a dark blue sedan, was parked at the curb a short distance down the side street and they made it to the vehicle without incident, passing only a single man along the way. Paul tossed the empty bag and the EMT's kit onto the front passenger seat, Don's clothes, swipe card and discarded keys had been left in the room. Nelson helped him into the back seat and buckled him in before moving quickly around the vehicle to take his spot beside him in the back, Paul keeping a close eye on him the whole time. As Paul settled into the driver's seat Nelson turned to their captive, stripping off his gloves and wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Thank-you, Agent."

"You didn't exactly give me any choice."

"True, but I think I know you fairly well."

Not sure how to answer that Don turned away, watching as they headed back towards the San Bernardino freeway. "How long before we get down to business?"

"We'll be there in a bit," Nelson said sounding a little surprised at the agent's eagerness. "You really will help us?"

"I want to be away from you," Don answered. His hands twisted as the gesture he'd been about to make with one hand jerked the cuffs against his wrists. His hands balled into fists showing his frustration and anger. "And I want these off."

"Like I said, I think I know you well enough. They stay on."

"Then let's get this started. Where was Brad when you spoke to him?"

"He didn't say. Just that he was out."

"And coming after me."

"That too."

"Why not just sit back and wait until he came after me and then step in?" Don wanted to know.

"I thought of that," Nelson admitted. "But I figured you would probably end up in protective custody so that wasn't feasible. Looks like I was right on that point."

It was his own stupid fault that he wasn't. If he'd accepted Brown's offer to escort him he would probably have been comfortably in a hotel room by now. A sudden thought occurred to him, even thought he'd not actually being expecting an escort Nelson may have been prepared to one on. Perhaps it really had been better he'd gone to his SUV alone. Don got back on track, "When did he call you?"

"About nine."

"That would put it around two hours after his escape," Don calculated. That could put the fugitive anywhere within a hundred mile radius of his start point giving them a lot of territory to cover. It also meant Nelson and his son had made it to LA in very short time. "How did you get here so quick?"

"Charter plane."

"And organised all this in a few hours? How did you know where I live?"

"Like I said, I've done my research," Nelson explained. "I had always thought this possible, even if I hoped he would never try this. I had to be prepared."

Once again Don put the irrelevant line of questioning aside however personally alarming he found the concept that Nelson had planned this contingency long in advance. "How did Brad call you, cell or payphone?"

"Cell, I think."

"To your cell?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to need your number."

"That will identify my cell and get us tracked," Nelson objected.

Don didn't bother pointing out that the FBI would be able to find his number and track him anyway. But then, considering the amount of planning that had obviously gone into this, he figured Nelson had probably already swapped to a burner or a pre-paid which made that point moot. "Then dump it. You want me to help you I need to backtrace that call. We get his cell number we can track him."

"I'll think about it. What else?"

"Who helped his escape?" There had been no update on the attack from the details already on the BOLO in the morning. The injured guard had not yet recovered from surgery to be questioned. Their best guess was at least two men had staged the attack but there could easily have been more.

"He didn't say."

"What exactly did he say?"

Nelson sat back as he considered. "He called, said he was out. He was going to head straight to LA to find you. I told him to leave you alone and come to us."

"You were going to shelter him," Don accused.

"I was going to find a way to turn him in before he got himself killed. Or killed anyone else," Nelson added after a pause.

Don wasn't so sure he believed that. "Sure. So, what else did he say?"

"He already had a car and that he had a gun. His plan was to take care of you before anything else. They were heading out as soon as he finished talking to me."

"They?"

"What?" Nelson seemed startled.

"You said 'they'. He's with someone. Who?" Don figured it had to be at least one of the men involved in the escape.

"I don't know. I hadn't realised he'd said that."

"You're sure he did though, he did say 'they'?"

"Positive. You're right, he's with someone."

"But you've got no idea who that might be?"

"Not a clue," Nelson admitted then stopped as a thought occurred. "Jack's still-?" He trailed off.

Don nodded. Jack, along with the other two AK-47s had been confirmed to be still securely in custody. All three had been moved to solitary confinement in their respective prisons and locked down. "He's still in jail, so it isn't him. Or the other two. What other friends do you have that would get mixed up in something like this?"

Nelson seemed to take offence at that suggestion. "Not everyone I know is like Jack, Agent."

Don wasn't feeling very charitable towards the man at the moment and didn't care that he'd ruffled his feathers. He pressed the point, "So who is it? It has to be someone he knows so you'll probably know him too."

"It could be someone from jail. Have you thought of that?" Nelson snapped back.

"Sure, I've thought of that. I want to look into his cellmates, check their release status and outside contacts," he responded readily.

They'd been travelling along the freeway now for a while. Nelson regarded his captive for a long moment. "Don't think I'm missing why you're suddenly so eager to help us."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"They won't be able to trace your calls to where we're going to be," Nelson warned.

That certainly was part of what he'd hoped for but there was more. "You claim you want me to help you find your son and making those calls is the only way I can do that like this," he said, lifting his cuffed hands in emphasis. "The quicker I help the quicker I'll be out of these and away from you."

Nelson looked to the agent's restrained hands. "I am sorry about those, about this, but I have to try to save my son."

"So you keep saying," Don snapped back, in no mood for Nelson's apologising. "From where I'm sitting I have no reason to believe you. This whole time you could easily have been blowing smoke in which case Brad will be at the end of this road and you've killed me. I'd appreciate it if you could have the decency to tell me the truth if that's the case."

"I've never lied to you."

Which was true but Don pressed on. "Whatever. You say you want me to help find Brad and you've kept my phone so I can make the calls. You either let me or you don't. Up to you."

"I really have lost your trust," Nelson said, repeating his words from their last meeting.

"And you think this helps with that?" Don demanded. "No free pass this time, you've really stepped up to the plate. That goes for Paul as well."

Nelson sat back silently for a while. "You aren't going to help us, are you?"

"I'll help, but I want something in return."

"You want us to let you go."

"Damn straight. I'll be better able to find Brad than like this with my hands tied," he said, twisting so he faced Nelson. "But I know that's not on the cards so I want the next best thing. I'll run these checks through my team. I want them to know that you have me, not your son."

Even in the dark Don could see the eyebrow that rose at his demand. Nelson regarded the agent for a long moment.

"They'll go after Brad. You'll have to run them another way."

"So what if they go after Brad? You want him brought in." Even as he said it he thought the odds that his team would instead come after him were greater.

"I don't want him killed. He's still my son."

"You've met my team. You've met David Sinclair and you've put him in charge by taking me. You know how he works."

"I know he sent SWAT in to kill my son," Nelson said stiffly. He was clearly still angry at the desperate standoff David had initiated.

"They weren't there to kill him, they were there to get me out," Don countered. "Brad pushed him to it, as you know. Before it got to that David tried every non-violent avenue he could. It shouldn't have gone anywhere near as far as it did before he gave SWAT the go ahead."

Nelson held his silence for almost a full minute. "No. Run your inquiries through someone else. You used to work in Albuquerque, go through there."

"It will get back to my team eventually."

"Eventually," Nelson seized on the word. "You will order your checks to only come back to you. You will be very careful what you say."

"They'll work it out soon enough, no matter where I run the checks, Albuquerque or Los Angeles," Don warned. In all probability by the time he got to make the call his access would have already been disabled but if he raised that point he was sure there would be no phone call.

"Then you can do it my way."

Don knew he had lost, "Fine. You're the man with the gun."

Now Nelson sounded disappointed, "Does it really have to be like that?"

"Seriously? Half an hour ago you had your gun in my ribs. You're quite likely going to get me killed. Or maybe even kill me yourself. Yes, it's like that."

"I'm trying to protect you."

How they'd gotten onto this line of conversation Don wasn't sure but he pushed on. "You? What makes you think you can do that better than the FBI?"

"We're here aren't we?"

It was a fair response and only served to make the agent even angrier at himself. "My own stupid fault. I should have shot you both."

"If you'd hurt Paul I would have killed you on the spot. Keep that in mind," Nelson turned his automatic response into a threat. "We are only here now because I started this whole chain of events. Don't make the mistake of thinking that means I put you before my sons, either of them."

"Oh, I'm sure of that," Don replied just as heatedly. "But you better not make the mistake of pushing me into a corner. You have no idea how far I will go."

After another long, tense silence Nelson finally spoke, his tone back to his more usual friendly manner as he tried to calm things down. "I owe you a phone call. I'll let you call Agent Sinclair to let him know you're safe." He stopped as he seemed to consider something, "Or your family. One or the other."

Don hadn't expected that given Nelson's insistence that he couldn't contact his team but would take whatever he was given, "When?"

"When the time is right."

Don interpreted that to mean once his kidnapping was confirmed which made it not much of an offer in the end. Nelson would have to make contact when it came time to make his demands. On that note he gave it a rest, he had all he needed to make a start on the checks Nelson wanted so now all he could do was sit back and wait.

He was surprised when barely five minutes later they took the Rialto exit off the freeway. Paul drove for about a mile or so before pulling up in an unlit spot at the side of the road.

"What are we doing?" Don asked. As best he could tell their location was totally random.

"Time to make those calls before we get to where we're going," Nelson said. He pulled out Don's cell. "Albuquerque, right?"

Now he understood Nelson's comment about not finding them by tracing the calls. Assuming he was allowed to stay on the line long enough for a trace it would come up as Rialto, not their final destination. "Fine."

"Speakerphone and brief," Nelson instructed.

"Fine," Don repeated as he powered up the phone. He remembered something, "What about your cell number?"

"No."

Don wasn't surprised by the refusal. Nelson would want to keep the phone in case his son called him again. The phone beeped indicating new messages waiting on his voicemail. Nelson pulled at his arm to better see the screen.

"Leave it. Make the call."

Clearing the voicemail alert Don switched to speakerphone as ordered and dialled.

"_Federal Bureau of Investigation, Albuquerque Field Office,"_ a male voice answered.

"Duty Agent, please," Don requested.

A few seconds passed then a familiar voice introduced himself_, "Agent Shelton."_

"Tony? Don Eppes."

"_Hey, Boss! Calling us for old time's sake?"_

The response told him the alarm hadn't yet been raised about his disappearance. An agent going missing under suspicious circumstances warranted a country-wide alert, even in Albuquerque Shelton would have seen it if it had been issued. He was a little surprised, but a glance at his watch showed it had only been about an hour and a half since he went missing. He was confident Stone and Brown had long since raised the alarm, but perhaps Wright was being cautious about rushing the formal alert. Nelson gestured in annoyance at his slight hesitation so he got on with it, having the duty agent recognise him made this so much easier. "Not this time Tony, business and we're on the clock."

The duty agent took the hint and got down to it,_ "What do you need?"_

Don listed the inquiries he wanted conducted as well as instructing that he was to be called back direct to his cell only with the results. At the other agent's request he rattled off his authorisation code once he'd finished with his instructions.

"_I thought you were in LA, not Fugitives,"_ Tony commented.

"Special circumstances with this one," Don said.

"_I see. You suspect he's heading this way?"_

"Possibly," Don risked. Nelson didn't react.

"_Okay, I'll get this started and call you back."_

"Thanks. Oh, I'm not sure where I'll be, if you get my voicemail, leave the details."

"_Will do,"_ the other agent acknowledged. _"Huh. Be careful with this one, Boss. I'm just checking his sheet on the BOLO-"_

"I know," Don interrupted. "Gotta go."

Nelson took the phone back and shut it down. "Thank-you Agent."

.

* * *

.

David Sinclair looked at the position of the fresh handprints revealed by the white fingerprint dust and understood what they meant. Even so he stepped up and held his own hands above the marks on the side of the once shiny black suburban to be sure. The prints had already been confirmed as Don's. The single round of law enforcement ammunition sealed in an evidence bag in his hand, also bearing Don's partial thumb print removed any doubt. He made the call.

"_Wright."_

"Sir, it's confirmed, Agent Eppes has been taken."

"_What do we have?" _

"Very little," David admitted. "The only prints are his but it looks like he was disarmed and searched. We've recovered one unfired round from his service weapon indicating it was unloaded but there is no sign of the weapon itself. There are also no signs of a struggle or any weapons fire. The two agents sent to escort him to the hotel reported hearing nothing. His vehicle is unlocked and abandoned. Calls to his cell are all going to voicemail and we can't ping the GPS chip. We're checking with the building manager for any footage from the lot but it seems the only camera is at the entry."

"_Keep me apprised."_

"Yes, sir. I'll get Control to issue the alert." He wanted to get the Missing Agent Alert out as soon as possible. Sent via text message to every agent's personal and work cell as well as via email it would take some time to be delivered. It would also be forwarded on to other agencies, which would take even longer. There was no time to waste.

"_No, hold on that."_

"Sir?"

"_Not yet. I'll make the arrangements. Keep it as quiet as you can for now,"_ Wright ordered but didn't explain further. _"Have his family collected and secured. Follow up on the CCTV. Report directly to me with anything you get."_

"Sir," David acknowledged.

"David, only one car left the lot," Colby reported as he ran up. "A red sedan, here's the tags."

Thumbing the redial David tried to call the ADIC straight back with the details but got voicemail. Expecting that would be the case knowing that Wright would be briefing up he left a brief message. With the surprise order not to activate the alert for Don he didn't go ahead with a BOLO while awaiting the call back unsure whether it would interfere with whatever the ADIC was planning. Instead he set Colby to organising a forensic tow of Don's SUV. Their technicians may have better luck examining the vehicle in their purpose built facility.

Wright called him back a few minutes later and issued his orders after receiving the new information. "_Have a BOLO put out on it, no details but top priority. Tell LAPD to make no attempt to intercept if sighted, they are to follow and contact you or Control only."_

David made the call to activate the BOLO then he had Stone and Brown follow him around to the Craftsman, leaving Colby to supervise the collection of the SUV.

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Getting Alan and Charlie settled had been difficult to say the least, leaving David drained. It had taken longer than he'd hoped but he was finally on his way back from the hotel where he'd left Stone and Brown guarding the pair.

When he'd arrived at the Craftsman he had started with breaking the news that Brad Nelson had escaped and was pleased to hear that they already knew. Things had gone downhill from there however when he told them about Don's disappearance.

"I knew it!" Alan had exclaimed angrily, rounding on David and forcing the agent to take a step back. "You had ample warning and this is how you protect my son."

"Easy, Alan," David tried to soothe. He saw the eyes narrow at the familiarity, normally welcome but clearly not now. "Mr Eppes, we are not yet sure what has happened-"

"Really? Seems clear enough to us," Alan snapped. "Brad's got him. That psychopath's got my son."

"We're not sure. There's no sign of violence, if it had been Brad there would have been signs," David explained bluntly.

"There doesn't have to be any signs, he could have knocked my son out!"

"No, the prints show he was conscious," David said and had explained how the prints showed Don had leant against the side of his suburban 'in the position'. "We also don't think it is possible for Brad to have reached LA as yet either."

"It is possible," Charlie spoke up. "Not likely, but possible. I need a map and some more details to confirm it but I think it is possible. He should have had a protection detail long before now."

Despite having wanted the same thing himself David had felt the need to defend the Bureau. "In hindsight maybe, but we can only go on the information we have at the time. We're not taking any more chances; you both need to pack a bag for a few days."

"We're staying here," Alan had refused.

"Mr Eppes, Charlie, if someone found Don at his home they can find you here. We may have dropped the ball with Don but by keeping you safe now we may help to keep him safe. Understand?"

There had been more arguing, then grumbling but he'd finally convinced them to pack and got them safely to the hotel room for the night. They'd only just checked in to the room that had been intended for Don when his cell phone beeped. Within a few seconds the other two agents' phones also alerted them to a new text message. Checking they each found the Missing Agent Alert. He showed it to Alan and Charlie.

"That's gone state-wide?" Alan asked.

"It will be going state-wide for locals. Nation-wide for us, ATF, DEA and the US Marshals," David explained. "We'll find him."

Now as the hotel disappeared behind him he called Control for an update.

"Transferring you to the ADIC," the control operator announced unexpectedly. "Stand by."

"_Wright."_

"Sir, its Sinclair. His family are secure at the hotel. I'm on my way back in."

"_We've heard from Eppes,"_ Wright announced.

"When? Is he alright? What did he say?"

"_About an hour ago he contacted Albuquerque and ordered some checks into Brad Nelson's cellmates." _

"Albuquerque are sure it was him?" David asked. "Not someone claiming to be him and using his code?" He didn't want to think on how the code may have been obtained.

"_The agent he spoke to, the duty agent, used to work for him there. It was him,"_ Wright confirmed. _"The duty agent called us when he started to run the checks and Eppes' code was denied. He'd been instructed to leave a message on voicemail when the checks were done so I've had him leave a message for Eppes to call him for the results. They will keep him on the line as long as they can for a trace."_

"Any activity from his cell?"

"_It was used to make the call but wasn't on long enough for more than a basic cell tower triangulation. He was somewhere in the Rialto area at the time. LAPD and some agents are patrolling now."_

"I'll update his family that we've heard from him," David said, taking the next turn. He was close enough to go back and deliver the news in person.

"They're sure it was him?" Charlie asked when David finished.

"Yes. Apparently the agent he spoke to knew him."

"Thank God," Alan eased back into a chair. "Is he alright?"

"We think so, the agent didn't suspect anything was wrong until he tried to use Don's code," David explained.

Charlie looked concerned at that, he understood what it could mean. "What checks?"

"I can't go into that, Charlie. You know that."

"But I can help!" Charlie insisted. "Let me come back with you."

"Charlie, we've been through this. No."

"Maybe he's right, Charlie," Alan interrupted. "Don said if anything happened we had to stay away."

"He needs to know you're safe, Charlie," David said. "This was what he wanted."

"He'd want me to find him."

"Charlie, there's nothing you can do for now. If we get something you can work with we'll bring it to you."

Charlie looked to his father and the agent before bringing up his hands. "Fine. But any time, David. I don't care what time it is, you bring it to me straight away. Okay?"

.

* * *

.

"See, Agent?" Nelson finally said breaking the long silence as he helped Don from the car after they'd finally came to a stop at a cabin. "My son is not here."

Don shook himself free as he looked around seeing the cabin was completely isolated. They'd passed the last signs of habitation, a hint of lights way off the road, some time ago.

After making the call to Albuquerque they had travelled north a ways before the road started climbing and he realised he recognised the area. It had been a while but he was sure they were heading towards Green Valley Lake. Another few miles and he finally saw a sign, confirming his suspicion. If they stopped at the town he had an advantage, he knew the area. And the sheriff.

Unfortunately they drove straight past the turnoff after going through the small town of Arrowbear Lake. Continuing on they passed through the larger town of Big Bear Lake before turning off onto a minor road and several more after that as they wound their way through the hilly terrain. The forest had thinned markedly, reduced now to a scrubby brush. He wasn't clear on where they were exactly but it was pretty much miles from anywhere.

That meant his choices at the moment were limited. Escape was a priority but right now, with two guns on him and them expecting him to make his break at the first opportunity there was no point making the attempt just yet. He could have no real expectation of reaching help before he could be re-captured and quite possibly shot into the bargain. Cuffed, he was at a disadvantage on foot, particularly on the run in the dark. The rocky ground along with the general terrain made it likely he would injure himself if he tried. It was still a viable option if the chance arose but the urgency was gone as Nelson was right, Brad was not here. The young killer would not have been able to restrain himself and would have come running out of the rustic cabin the moment they'd pulled up.

"So what do you want?" Don demanded as his simmering anger resurfaced. "A thank-you?"

"No," Nelson sounded hurt. "But a little trust would be nice."

"Trust. You want trust at gunpoint," Don snorted and sidestepped the hand that reached for his elbow. Without another word he started walking for the cabin.

It was about what he would have expected for the area, constructed of logs to look old fashioned even if it was likely only a few years old. The brush that he'd seen in the car's headlights didn't look as if it had been touched by the wildfires a few years back but he didn't think the cabin would have pre-dated them by much. The bushes beside the steps leading up to the porch were barely established and the log siding still had some colour to it from what he could see in the headlights Paul had left on for the moment. The large poly water tank mounted high on a raised platform at the side wall was another indicator the cabin was not as old as it tried to look. He took the steps up to the porch to the door and tried the handle finding it unlocked. Pushing it open he stepped in with Nelson close on his heels as Paul moved about the car.

He moved into the darkness far enough for Nelson to enter behind him and stopped as the other man swung a flashlight around the open area. The beam settled on a chair at the table.

"Sit."

Obeying the instruction he pulled out one of the four chairs and sat as Nelson moved over to the kitchen area and worked at one of the lamps waiting on the bench. The first lamp was battery powered and was a simple matter of turning it on to get light. Nelson then fiddled with another lamp attached to a gas bottle. When that one was lit and stable he carried the battery one over to the table.

Left to himself as Nelson moved to the door to take the bags handed to him by his son Don took the time to look the main cabin area over. With the door behind him to his left was a kitchen area along the far wall and partway along what had to be an internal wall. It was basic with some cupboards, a long bench and a gas stove top. There were labels on the cupboard doors and the drawers and he concluded the cabin was or had been a rental.

Directly in front of him at the end of the kitchen bench and in the middle of the internal wall was an open doorway that he guessed would lead to a bunkroom and a bathroom area that he expected shared plumbing with the kitchen sink. To his right was the living area with a long low couch that on a second look appeared to be a single bed with some cushions propped up against the wall. A sleeping bag was already spread out along its length and he assumed it would be for whoever was on watch. There were also a couple of easy chairs facing a fireplace on the end wall with a small coffee table in between. It was basic and clearly not on mains power but some effort had been made to make it comfortable.

Once all the bags were in and the door closed Paul busied himself at the gas stove, filling up a kettle and setting it to heat. He then started to sort through a cardboard box on the bench and Don recognised the bowls of dried noodles. His stomach growled, he'd not had much of a lunch and had certainly missed dinner.

"It's not gourmet but it'll do," Nelson commented when he saw the direction the agent was looking.

Don was more concerned with the number of cardboard boxes he could see on the bench and stacked in front of it. "You had time to buy all this?"

"For a little extra they do the shopping for you," Nelson explained.

"How long did you tell them to shop for? How long are you planning on keeping this up?"

"As long as it takes, Agent."

He should have expected the answer. "So now what? A campfire sing-a-long to round out the evening?"

"Hardly," the older man said in reaction to the sarcasm. "A civil dinner and then we check your messages before turning in for the night. I think we've all had a long day."

"Here," Paul said as he placed two cups on the table. "Coffee."

It was clearly instant but he could really do with a coffee. Reaching out his hands he grabbed the closest cup and took a sip, grimacing around the taste before taking another.

"Do you take sweetener?" Paul asked holding up a couple of sachets.

The contrast wasn't lost on him as he put the cup down to take the sachets, the hot coffee and the polite offer of the sweetener against the restriction of the cuffs as he moved. He turned to Nelson who had taken the seat to his left, holding up his wrists suggestively.

Nelson shook his head. "No."

"Huh," he grunted as he turned back and worked at the sachets, dumping their contents into the cup. While he'd been hopeful he wasn't surprised. "Civil."

Nelson heard the muttered word but let it go.

It was only a few minutes later that Paul brought over the first two bowls, placing them and forks in front of both his father and the agent.

Taking up the fork and pulling the bowl towards him Don made to stand, telegraphing his intention by glancing over at the coffee table where he planned to eat.

"Stay, Agent," Nelson invited.

It wasn't an order and he found himself hesitating. He was angry and frustrated and in no mood for joining his kidnappers at the same table for a meal, the reason he'd started to move in the first place. Paul brought his own meal over and took a seat, looking at their unwilling guest in question. Don reconsidered, it was a small thing but cooperation on this could help to relax the pair around him. That could lead to an opening. He settled back on the seat and started eating.

The noodles were salty as he expected but did the job, filling his stomach. Nelson and Paul had started in silence but had relaxed slightly and engaged in conversation. The older man tried a number of times to involve Don but there was no way he was discussing anything of a personal nature. He concentrated on eating awkwardly and listened, learning an interesting point along the way; Paul was a qualified advanced care paramedic which explained the EMT level kit they had brought with them.

When they'd finished and Paul was cleaning up Nelson pulled out Don's cell phone and powered it up. It beeped again to indicate there were new unread messages and this time Nelson dialled Don's voicemail. The messages when they started occasionally dropped or fuzzed out suggesting cell reception at the cabin was poor. If reception was that bad and the call was kept brief Don expected the data from the cell tower would be of little help to locate him.

"_Don? It's David. Just letting you know we're packing it up for the night. We've located another two witnesses and have got a statement from one; the other will be in first thing. Looks like we may finally have a line on identifying at least one of the crew. Don't worry about calling me back, Wright's advised me of the arrangements for tonight. Take the opportunity for some room service. See you in the morning."_

"_Agent Eppes, it's Stone. We're at your vehicle, where are you?"_

"_Agent Eppes, Stone. Call me back immediately."_

"_Hey, Don. Why didn't you call me?"_ Charlie's voice sounded annoyed_. "Dad said you didn't want to interrupt my classes. You know I would have wanted to know about this straight away. I can help. I'm calling David, I know you don't want me to go in but I can help. Call me back when you get this. If you can."_

"_Agent Eppes, this is Control. Please report your location."_

"_Agent Eppes, this is Control. Report in urgently."_

"_Don?"_ David's voice was no longer cheerful. _"Don, where are you? Call me back now."_

"_Hey Don," _Robin's voice sounded concerned._ "I got your message. I wish I wasn't at this conference so I could be with you. If you need me though, I'll try to get home. Keep in touch, please."_

There were three more messages from Control before the message Nelson wanted.

"_Agent Eppes? Tony Shelton, Albuquerque," _the duty agent's voice was clearly worried. _"Sir, I need you to call me back as soon as you get this. I have some of the results of your inquiries but I can't leave them as a message. Call me back."_

After hanging up on the voicemail service there was a different beep and Nelson looked questioningly at the agent.

"Text message," Don supplied. Nelson read it through with a deepening frown before turning the phone so he could see. It was the Missing Agent Alert he'd been expecting.

Nelson powered the phone down.

Don got in first, "I've been officially declared missing in suspicious circumstances. There is nothing more I can do for you."

"He said he had some results," Nelson argued. "That was before the time on the alert message."

Don shook his head, "My access will have been blocked long before that alert. The checks needed my code to run."

"So it was a ruse, to make us call in," Nelson deduced. "No more calls to Albuquerque. We'll find another way."

"There is no other way. I can't help you."

"Yes, you can. You must know other people you can call direct to get answers."

"I know people," Don confirmed. "But they won't help. By now that alert has gone out to all federal agents across the country, not just FBI, along with local and state law enforcement."

"A bit dangerous, don't you think, for them to have sent it to you as well?" Nelson said, picking up on a key point. "They know we have your phone."

The agent suspected that may have been why the alert was delayed so long in the first place. "It would be too hard to separate my number out from the group. It had to come to my cell as well as everyone else's. How long did you really think you could hold me without something like this happening?"

Nelson ignored the question and stood. "Then it's time we made that call. Let's go."

Don was surprised to be hustled out to the car, but then as they started off he remembered Nelson's plans to confuse attempts to track their location by their calls and figured they were heading somewhere nearby. Instead they drove for almost three quarters of an hour turning away from LA when they reached the main road and following it down off the plateau before finally stopping on the outskirts of Lucerne Valley. Nelson handed over Don's cell.

"Call Agent Sinclair. Tell him to give you back your access," Nelson ordered.

Somewhat exasperated, having thought he'd made the point clear Don nevertheless took the phone. Calling David worked to his needs too so he would use whatever pretext Nelson wanted. He had a thought as he waited for the phone to acquire the network, if he could get the identification of who held him to the FBI that was a major bonus for him. They'd worn gloves during the initial stages of his kidnapping and he knew the forensic examination of his SUV and the surrounding area under his building would have yielded little evidence to identify suspects. The same went for the hotel room, assuming that had been found yet. He was sure that David would have fears it had been Brad Nelson that had taken him, correcting that would make things a little easier on his family.

"I need to be able to tell him it is you, not Brad, that has me or they won't give it back," Don tried.

Surprisingly, Nelson agreed. "Fine, just me. Leave Paul out of this."

.


	6. Chapter 6

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

Agreeing to Charlie's demand David made his second escape from the hotel where they'd stashed Don's family. He didn't make it to the office this time either.

"_David, it's Colby,"_ his partner announced when he answered his cell. _"We've found the red sedan."_

"Where?"

"_A motel on West Garvey Avenue at West Corvina. The Walnut Inn. A patrolling LAPD cruiser was checking all the parking lots in the area and found the car."_

"Did they check with the manager?"

"_No, the BOLO said to report in so they've back off. They're watching the exit but the car hasn't moved."_

"Make sure they stay out of sight. I'm on my way. Is a team rolling?"

"_I'm with SWAT now, about ten minutes out."_

David didn't need to ask if Wright had been notified, he would have had to authorise SWAT to deploy. "Hold for me if you can."

"_Plan to,"_ Colby advised before hanging up.

By the time David arrived the SWAT team had worked up their plan and he was given a briefing.

"I've spoken to the manager," Colby reported as they waited for David to kit up. "The room was booked by a young man around midday today for tonight. The manager saw a second older man go in and out of the room this afternoon. He said he didn't see the car come back tonight."

"Brad?"

Colby had shown the manager the photo of the fugitive. "No. I've had no luck with the name either, a P. Merlton."

"Certainly fake," David concluded. "We ready?"

"Good to go," Colby reported.

The SWAT team silently took up their positions and waited for Colby and David to move to their hold point, they would only be able to move in once the room and any occupants had been secured. The SWAT commander, Agent Torrel, raised his hand and suddenly dropped it as the signal to execute. A flashbang was fired through the front window then the door was crashed with the team rushing in. It was a high speed breach to maximise the effect of surprise. Agent Torrel reappeared less than thirty seconds later and waved his hand, inviting David and Colby to enter.

Disappointingly it was clear the room was empty despite the car still being parked in the spot outside. David put the call in for forensics as Colby started carefully poking around; trying not to destroy any more evidence than they'd already done in the breach. His next call was to Wright just as Colby waved him to the bench and pointed at a card lying next to a set of keys. He recognised them, along with the clothes he'd already seen scattered on one of the beds.

"The room is empty," David reported into the phone. "We've found a building swipe card and the keys to Agent Eppes' SUV along with the clothes he was wearing today."

"_West Corvina is on the way out to Rialto from his apartment block isn't it?"_ Wright asked.

"Yes."

"_Then they're long gone,"_ Wright concluded.

"I'll have the units out at Rialto pay close attention to any motels. If he made the call from there that's where they may be staying. It looks like this was a stop off to change Don's appearance and their car."

"_Run it out,"_ Wright ordered.

They left a pair of SWAT agents guarding the room as the rest of them went door to door throughout the motel but didn't gain anything particularly useful. One of the agents stopped a man staggering his way into the parking lot and suddenly waved David over.

"Tell him what you told me," the SWAT agent ordered.

"Likes I's tol' him," the somewhat inebriated man started, "I saw sree men leaving 'bout sree or m're hours ago. They was real chummy, or ash leasht two of 'em were!" The last was added with a nudge and a wink at the SWAT agent.

"How do you mean?" David demanded once he'd interpreted that.

"Well da two of 'em, da older two, they's pretty mush cuddling on da way out. Sa young one looks a bit of a fird wheel. I thinks they's went down s'at way. Bet they's having a great time some'ere," the man ended with a laugh.

Whatever they were doing David was more than sure Don was far from having a great time. He left the SWAT agent to take the man's details and sent the rest of the agents, including Colby, to doorknock their way down the street in the direction the man had indicated. Forensics finally arrived and he set them to work on the room and car. It wasn't long before they located clear sets of Don's prints on the car window and the bathroom mirror determining their positioning suggested they were purposely left. Partial prints were found in a few more places but they were all Don's. A few smudged marks turned up when the experts checked the usual high contact places leaving them to conclude the suspects were wearing gloves.

By the time he'd ordered the vehicle towed Colby and the other agents returned, along with a couple of LAPD officers. They'd all drawn a blank; no one else had seen three men walking in the area.

Disappointed he thanked the LAPD officers, calling their supervisor to also thank her for the loan of her staff. The SWAT agents had some packing up to do and the tow wasn't far away so even though it wasn't their role they agreed to stay and wait for the vehicle to be seized. David and Colby headed back for the office.

When his cell rang David automatically checked the screen expecting to see 'restricted'. What he saw instead had him shoving the phone under Colby's nose. "Call Control," he ordered as he pulled the car over.

David gave it as long as he dared before answering the call, shielding the microphone so Colby's quiet voice as he spoke urgently to Control wouldn't be picked up. "Sinclair."

"_David."_

"Don!" He'd hoped but had not really expected the caller to be Don himself. "Don, where are you?"

"_I can't tell you that, David,"_ Don said calmly. _"I'm unharmed."_

He didn't expect an answer to his next question but he asked anyway, "Who?"

"_Scott Nelson."_

A long breath of relief escaped him. That Don had been kidnapped was very serious but at least it wasn't Brad Nelson. Scott Nelson had shown he was capable of caring for the agent he was now holding. But, as David recalled all too clearly, he was also quite capable of threatening him too. "Why?"

"_I need you to give me back my data access,"_ Don explained. It didn't answer David's real question but explained the purpose of the call.

"I can't do that," David said firmly. "Not now. You know that." He'd noted the slightly distant nature of Don's voice and suspected they were on speaker. His end of the conversation was also being monitored making him glad he was shielding his microphone. He briefly held one of his fingers up in front of his lips warning Colby to keep quiet.

"_I have inquiries to make."_

"What inquiries?"

"_They want me to find Brad for them before the FBI or police,"_ Don explained.

"They? Who's they?" David demanded. Despite his boss saying only Scott Nelson had him David knew that would have been under instruction. They still had no identity on the younger man. He did harbour a suspicion but the lack of prints or a good description made it just that for now.

A new voice came onto the line. _"My son is not to be harmed, Agent Sinclair."_

"We have no control over that Mr Nelson."

"_He is to be brought in alive." _Scott Nelson's voice was firm and determined. He didn't need to explain the consequences as his actions had made that plain enough.

"That is our intention," David insisted. He spelt it out, "But ultimately that is up to Brad. You know that. Holding and threatening Agent Eppes won't change anything."

After repeating himself Nelson hung up even though David tried to keep him on the line.

Turning to his partner David demanded, "Anything?"

Colby reported the call had terminated to the Control operator and listened for his response. "They got a hit off a cell tower in Lucerne Valley."

"Where is that?"

"West of Victorville," Colby supplied. "There was an earlier weak ping off a tower up in the hills, near a place called Big Bear. Control plotted it and they think they may have gone through there to get to Lucerne Valley. Looks like they're still on the move. What did he say?"

David held up a hand, dialling Wright. They would both hear it at the same time.

.

* * *

.

Don listened in silence as Nelson repeated himself.

"Alive, Agent Sinclair."

"_Mr Nelson,"_ David started but the call was ended and the cell switched off.

"If Brad tries to shoot it out you know we won't have a choice," Don said.

"Maybe. But with your life on the line they will try harder to keep him alive."

"Would you really kill me if Brad dies?" Don asked. Despite knowing it had been coming he still felt a new chill as things moved to the next level. He fixed Nelson in a hard stare, his next words carefully enunciated so there could be no mistake, "Could you murder me in cold blood?"

Nelson stared at the agent for a long time before looking across to Paul who had been watching them during the call. Don followed the glance and saw the younger son's gaze flicking uncertainly between the two of them. Nelson put the cell back into his pocket.

"Back to the cabin."

Paul started the car and they turned back, retracing their drive. It wasn't an answer but in a way it was. Nelson sat still, his gaze locked on the road ahead.

Paul started to say something then stopped, unsure what to say next as his father remained silent. They rolled to a stop at an intersection waiting for a couple of cars to pass and he turned his head briefly, looking into the back of the car from one man to the other, finding no help in either direction.

"You are in this now, Paul. Just as deep as your father is," Don warned as the younger man turned away to watch the road once they started moving again. He drove the point home, "However far this goes."

"No," Paul protested. His head tilted as he tried to look at the agent in the mirror. "It won't happen, it won't go that far. Brad will be fine. You will be fine."

Unable to catch Paul's eye in the dark Don looked out his window instead. He'd come on strong but given the circumstances fully justified. Until now it was clear to him that despite all their planning they had had not totally considered where things might end. Nelson had issued his ultimatum, his voice firm and resolute but now he was clearly thinking hard on what he'd said and the agent's following words. The point that worried Don was Nelson had not backed away from the threat at his challenge, had instead put the less than subtle unspoken threat into words. Even if he'd not wanted to let Sinclair and the FBI off the hook he could have cleared the air with him. Don looked over at the other man to see him staring steadily back and reminded himself once again he should not underestimate him.

The rest of the long drive back to the cabin passed in uncomfortable silence. This time as Don climbed out of the car he found his arm taken in a firm grip, clearly Nelson now expected him to make a break for it. Don had seriously considered it but the man's hold put paid to that. He let himself be led to the cabin and pushed inside.

Nelson waved his left hand towards the bed against the wall in the living area, "It's late."

"So? We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't." Nelson's hand moved to rest on the butt of his holstered gun as he waved a second time towards the bed.

Don glanced down at the weapon, raising his hands slightly in acknowledgement of the warning. He took a step back before turning and moving towards the bed as ordered. He was a little surprised, figuring he would be secured in the bunk room rather than right next to the main door of the cabin that he'd seen was not lockable. He reached the side of the bed to find that Nelson had followed him closely. He turned slowly, taking a half step backwards in the process as the other man was clearly on alert for him to try something, which was precisely the reason he wasn't. For the moment anyway, his best chance for escape would only come when they let their guard down.

Nelson held up the cuff key in his left hand, "It might be uncomfortable for you but we probably can't watch you all night. Cuff yourself to the frame."

Don liked that idea even less than wearing the cuffs in the first place.

"Not up for discussion," Nelson stated as he saw the agent about to argue.

"In that case, may I?" Don pointed his hands towards the doorway into the rest of the cabin and the likely direction of washroom.

"Oh, of course," Nelson's tone was a touch surprised. He'd not considered that. He moved away to collect the battery lamp before allowing the agent to move through the doorway. "Left."

Don turned and found the washroom right where he expected it to be. He went to raise his hands for the cuffs to be removed but Nelson was already shaking his head. Taking the offered lamp with a sigh Don stepped into the room and put it on the floor. He turned and hesitated, his hand on the door. Unexpectedly Nelson nodded, allowing him to close it. He understood why a moment later, there was no window in the tiny room, just a vent mounted high on the wall that was too small for a child, let alone him to get through. He took as long as he dared, relishing the moment of privacy. A few minutes later he washed up then turned the handle, giving it a half a second before pulling the door open. At this point it would be all too easy to startle Nelson and the outcome would not be good for him.

He found the other man as he expected, backed up out of easy reach with his hand still resting on his gun. He backed away before following as Don first put the lamp onto the table and then moved slowly back to the bed. He stopped and turned, holding out his hand for the key.

"Sit," Nelson ordered. "Cross your ankles."

Without protest Don complied. The last instruction meant it would take him a precious moment to untangle his feet if he were to make a break for it once he'd freed his hands. He once again held out his hand and this time the key was deposited in his palm. The head of the sleeping bag was pointed towards the end wall so Don removed the cuff around his right wrist and closed it about the frame about a third of the way down its length from the wall. With his now free right hand he slowly held up the key and held very still as Nelson took it back.

"Lock it."

Don completed the step. He'd hoped Nelson wouldn't notice; leaving the cuff unlocked gave him an option of working on the small tab of metal that bit into the teeth on the swing arm. If he could work something in there he could possibly force the cuff open. Locked, it was no longer possible. But then he really shouldn't have expected the other man to have missed it, anyone who had been in the prison system for any length of time became an expert on handcuffs, especially their weaknesses.

Nelson went over to one of the easy chairs and sat down. He looked over at Paul who had been hovering near the door. "Turn down the gas lamp then go get some sleep."

Paul looked to the watching agent then back to his father. "I'll get a couple of hours. Wake me before then if you want."

"'Night."

Paul went to the gas lamp first, turning it down to a dim glow before he collected the battery lamp and left the room.

"That goes for you too, Agent."

Not bothering to respond and certainly not inclined to wish Nelson a good night, Don uncrossed his ankles and set about opening the bag. It wasn't cool enough yet to need its warmth so he left it open. Lying back after shucking off his shoes he stared up at the ceiling for a while considering his slight advantage for whatever it was worth. Assuming he could actually get to sleep he was likely to have more than either Nelson or his son. They had to guard him, he had no such obligation.

.


	7. Chapter 7

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The night was long but Don was determined to get some rest. At least that was the plan, each noise in the unfamiliar cabin had him initially jerking awake to alertness after he eventually did fall asleep. He was eventually able to relax and finally woke as Nelson walked into the room just on dawn to relieve Paul.

Don moved as he woke fully and not for the first time jerked his wrist against the restraint of the cuffs. He'd lost count on the number of times during the night he'd done that. Nelson had been right on that point, it had not been a comfortable way to sleep.

"Morning, Paul," Nelson greeted his son first. He approached the bed, "Agent."

Don sat up slowly, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. At the sight of the handcuff key being held up he remembered the instruction from the night before and crossed his ankles. The key was dropped into his hand and he unlocked the cuff from the frame. Taking a risk he fitted the key into the band around his left wrist but Nelson wasn't having that.

"Uh uh, Agent. They stay on."

Pulling the key free Don reluctantly closed the free cuff around his right wrist and held his hands up at the new demand to allow Nelson to inspect them to ensure they were secured properly.

He was again allowed privacy in the washroom and he made the most of it washing his face and neck in an effort to feel somewhat clean. He was guided to the table where Paul already had a coffee waiting for him. After a less than companionable breakfast he was taken out to the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Time to check in with your people," Nelson explained. "I want to see if they've found my son and I'm sure they want to hear from you."

They took the same route as the night before but continued through Lucerne Valley before finally stopping at the outskirts of Barstow at a lay-by beside the road.

"_Agent Sinclair."_

"David, it's me," Don started. "I'm fine."

"_How are they treating you?"_ David asked.

"Good, David," Don responded honestly. He'd been shown more courtesy than anyone in his position could have expected. He explained further knowing this part of the conversation would be relayed to his family, "I've been given meals and have been treated fairly."

"_Is Nelson there?"_

"I'm here. Have you found my son?"

"_No."_

Nelson looked to the phone clearly expecting more than that. "And?"

"_And what?"_ David demanded.

"You've been working on this since yesterday. What have you found so far? Where has he been? Is he okay?"

"_I'm not discussing that,"_ David said firmly. _"When we get him back into custody I'll let you know and you can let Agent Eppes go."_

"I have a right to know."

"_No, you don't. We will do our best to keep him alive when we find him, that's the deal."_

"He's my son!" Nelson insisted. He shoved the phone at the agent, "Tell them."

"No," Don said with an emphatic shake of his head, determined to shut this down before Nelson descended into threats. "David won't discuss operational matters with you, or me. Our policies don't allow him to give either of us that sort of information."

Nelson stared at him for a moment before backing down. "Agent Sinclair, I'm checking Agent Eppes' messages, leave one when you have something for me."

"_We will,"_ David promised. _"When will you contact us next if I haven't left you a message?"_

"Later. You don't need to know when," Nelson threw the words back at David.

David took it with grace, _"Okay. Don?"_

Don was thankful for the opening, "My family? Robin?"

"_Secure," _David said to the first. He answered the second question equally tersely, "_Notified."_

He sat back in relief. He'd not been able to ask last night, "Thank-you."

Nelson disconnected the call. He turned to the agent as Paul completed a U-turn and they started the hour plus drive back. "Brad isn't interested in your family, Agent. Or your girlfriend."

"If he's desperate enough to come after me after breaking out of jail he would be desperate enough to target them if he thought it would get him anywhere," Don responded. He didn't separate out Robin even though he agreed with Nelson on that point.

"He's not like that."

"You know exactly what he is like. That's why you're doing this."

Nelson started to say something but changed his mind, turning away and shutting the agent out.

Sitting back Don looked out his own window at the scenery such as it was. It was going to be a long run back and he found himself wondering why he was so determined to antagonise the man who had the power to make his life very uncomfortable. He was angry and frustrated at his situation but as he'd told David he'd been treated far better than he could have expected. If he kept pushing the man that could easily change.

He was thinking on whether he should say something to make amends or simply leave it be when Paul suddenly tensed.

"Cops."

Nelson stiffened before carefully turning his head so he could see behind them.

Don also started to turn but Nelson was already facing forwards again and stopped him. Unable to look he had to ask, "Who is it?"

"Highway Patrol," Nelson supplied.

"Is the car clean?" Don asked.

"Yes."

"The registered owner?"

"Clean too," Nelson answered. He wasn't surprised that the agent knew the car wasn't theirs.

Don leant forward and directed his next words at their driver, "Paul, how fast are we going?"

The young man glanced back at the agent, "About two under posted."

"Stay there, don't slow down, don't speed up," Don ordered.

Nelson looked puzzled, "Agent?"

"If the car and the owner are clean and Paul doesn't give him cause to pull us over he'll pass on by soon," Don explained. It was a standard tactic, pull in behind a car, run the registration and owner, monitor the way the vehicle handled looking for defects and watch the driver for any signs of intoxication or nervousness at police presence. Another tactic was for the patrolman to use them as a blind while he focused his mobile radar on approaching traffic, in which case he could stay behind them for a while.

"I understand that, why are you doing this? I'd have thought you would want us stopped," Nelson said. "I know you could get him to try."

It would be simple enough Don knew. He could make a move that Nelson would immediately counter but it would easily be enough to pique the watching patrolman's interest and give him sufficient cause to attempt to pull them over. He lifted his hands at the gun that Nelson had drawn on identifying the car. He stepped it out, "He's alone, yes? If this car is clean and there is no want out on it in connection to this then he won't know what he's getting into if he pulls us over. There are two of you against one of him. Plus you have me. I don't know how far you'd take it but against those odds he doesn't have a chance."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"Maybe not," Don said. "But you've made it clear you will if you feel you have to."

Reminded of their conversation from the night before, Nelson didn't dispute the agent.

The patrol car seemed content to sit behind them for a few more miles before Paul announced it was accelerating. A moment later it was overtaking them. Don didn't see it pass having been ordered to turn away, effectively hiding his face in case the officer looked over. A minute after that the patrol car was gone and Nelson finally relaxed, holstering his gun.

"Thank-you," Nelson said.

Don ignored him, letting out a long breath in relief. He'd meant what he'd said; a confrontation would not have ended well for the patrolman. One life at risk was more than enough and he didn't want to be responsible for a fellow LEO not going home today either through injury or worse.

They made it back to the cabin with no other incidents and he found himself once again shackled to the bed frame as Nelson went to see if he could start a small generator to power the tiny refrigerator and a double power socket. He was successful and put both his own and Don's phones on to charge.

"Is there anything you want, Agent Eppes?" Paul asked.

The younger man had been checking through their supplies, making a list in the process. He was going to make a run into Big Bear to refuel the car and get some perishables. Regretting he had no weird medical or food need that would send up a flag if purchased he shook his head. Paul had started for the door after receiving some final instructions from his father when Don thought of something. He'd been asked after all, so why not?

"Coffee," Don said. "I'd like a real coffee."

"How do you have it?"

It was surreal but Don gave his order. It would be cold after the long drive back from Big Bear but even cold was an improvement over instant.

The rest of the day dragged interminably with the cold coffee, a grande which Don made last, and a fresh salad roll for lunch the highlights. Nelson also checked Don's messages but there was none he found of interest other than an updated Missing Agent Alert which he showed the agent in question. Other than that Paul and Nelson each took turns guarding him whilst the other had a brief nap to catch up on lost sleep.

Don found himself drifting off in pure boredom and welcomed the sleep, anything to make the day pass.

Movement woke him. Awkwardly checking his watch he saw it was getting on to four o'clock. He was given a cup of instant coffee and allowed another trip to the washroom before they drove away from the cabin to check in with the FBI. This time they turned back towards Big Bear before taking another road to the south just on the outskirts of the town. The road then swung west taking them through some winding bends before they descended towards the outskirts of greater Los Angeles. They took a left at the first intersection and continued on a couple of miles before stopping at a park area. A sign they'd passed identified the area as Yucaipa.

The start of the call was an almost word for word repeat of the call in the morning from Barstow. Once again David refused to brief Nelson on the details of their search to date, only that they'd failed so far.

"_We are doing everything we can to locate him and bring him in safe,"_ David said when Nelson pressed again.

"He should have made it to LA by now," Nelson stated. "Has something happened that you're not telling me?"

"_No. Mr Nelson, Los Angeles is a big place,"_ David pointed out. _"Have you had any contact with your son? Do you have information that could help us find him?"_

"He hasn't called. He should have by now. If I find out you're lying to me-"

"_I'm not!"_ David said quickly at the warning. _"We're using every resource we have to try to track him."_

"David?" Don blurted in alarm.

"_No, Don. They're safe, we're keeping them away."_

"Agent, what?" Nelson demanded.

"You said you'd done your research so you know my brother is a consultant. I want him kept well away from this," Don explained.

"If he can help find my son then I want you to use him," Nelson ordered.

"No," Don said flatly. "Not going to happen."

"Agent Sinclair, do it," Nelson countermanded before hanging up. He turned to face his hostage. "I thought you wanted away from us, Agent."

"I do, but I'm not putting my brother at risk to do it. Shoot me if you want, I'm not telling David any different," he challenged.

"Your agent knows what he has to do," Nelson answered confidently.

Don was also confident. David would not cross him on this, no matter the threat from Nelson. He sat back only to jerk upright as Nelson's own cell rang.

"Are you okay?" Nelson asked. He squeezed a few more words in to the conversation, "Yes. Okay. Where? Wait for us."

Nelson snapped the phone closed after the mostly one sided conversation. "He's here."

"Where?" Paul asked, sounding a little less than enthused.

"Some business at 1705 East Colton Avenue in Mentone. Plug it in," Nelson said waving his hand at the GPS unit in the dash.

Paul entered the details and a pleasant female voice announced their first turn in 50 yards. "That's only six miles away."

At the surprised note in his son's voice Nelson explained, "He said he'd be coming in from this side of town."

"And we're going straight there," Don said, his voice flat.

Nelson turned, a slight frown on his face until he realised what the agent was getting at.

"You're taking me to him," Don stated.

"Yes. No!" Nelson contradicted himself. "Not like that. He's close, we can get there, and get-"

"And get me killed," Don interrupted. His tone became increasingly bitter, "You said this was about keeping me safe, using me to find him and when that didn't work, about keeping him safe from us until he could be taken back into back in custody where he can't hurt anyone. You said you wouldn't hand me over to him. You lied."

Nelson flinched. "No! I've never broken my word with you."

Don lifted his cuffed wrists. "Then you're letting me go now."

"No."

"Alright, then you're calling David back and telling him where Brad is."

"No."

"How are you expecting to get him back into custody? You think he'll hand himself in because you tell him to?"

"I'm not calling the feds on him," Nelson said indignantly.

"Dad," Paul attempted to intervene.

Don ignored the younger man, focusing on his father. Even though Nelson had earlier told him he wanted to find his son first this turnabout made no sense after ordering David, and thus the FBI, to find the escapee. "Why not? You've used us against him in the past."

"And that very nearly got him, and you, killed."

The feel of the gun under his jaw in Nelson's rock steady hand after the failed SWAT raid was something he was hardly ever going to forget. "So shoot me, or order Paul to do it. I'd rather that than what Brad has planned for me."

"No one's shooting anyone."

"Dad!" Paul finally got a word in edgewise. "He's right. Let me take us back to the cabin, I'll watch him while you go to Brad."

"That will take too long, he won't wait." Nelson turned and ordered Paul to start the engine. "You'll be fine, Agent."

Don thought Nelson's definition of 'fine' was orders of magnitude away from his. He released his seatbelt before quickly turning and pulling at the door handle beside him, getting himself out of the car and away was his last option. The door stayed shut, it had been a forlorn hope but he had to try. In frustration he jerked at it again as Nelson grabbed at his left arm but the locks held firm.

"Drive, Paul," Nelson ordered.

Despite his clear reservations the younger man did as his father instructed.

Don pulled his arm free from the older man's grip and sat tensely as Paul took the first turn.

The drive was far too short, it was barely fifteen minutes later when they pulled into a driveway in an industrial area. The driveway took them between some mismatched sheds before swinging around behind a larger building to the left. Nelson directed Paul to stop out of sight of the road and near a battered pickup. At the rear of the lot a short distance away stood half a dozen shipping containers, clearly visible in the single spotlight aimed at them from the building they were now parked behind. It looked as though they were only occasionally used with barely discernible paths in the long grass leading to the doors of each.

Don thought it was an ideal place to lie low, during the night anyway. It was after dark and they'd only passed a couple of vehicles on the way in. Before much longer the area would be pretty much abandoned with the only movement likely to be a security patrol.

"Stay here with him," Nelson ordered as Paul released the central locking. Paul got out and pulled open his father's door.

"But, Dad," Paul again protested as his father stood beside him.

"Get in the back and wait here," Nelson repeated before turning and walking towards the containers. He'd only gone a short distance before he called out, "Brad?"

"You know this is wrong," Don said, keeping his voice low when Paul climbed in beside him. "You know what Brad will do when he finds out I'm here."

"Dad won't let him do anything."

"He won't be able to stop him. Let me go. Now."

"I can't, Dad said-" Paul broke off suddenly as he glanced over in the direction his father had taken. "Brad."

Don snapped his head around and saw the figure emerge from between two containers. It was too late. There was nothing more he could do. If he tried to force his way past Paul the commotion would be sure to draw the fugitive's attention.

Nelson approached his son before pulling him into a tight hug. After a long moment they separated and started talking. Trapped in the car Don couldn't hear what was said but Brad's body language changed as he clearly didn't like what his father was saying.

The door next to Don suddenly opened and a hand took a hold of his shirt collar hauling him out.

"Well, lookit what we got here!" A gravelly voice exclaimed loudly.

Don barely had a chance to glance at the oversize man dragging at him before he was given a shake and then a hard shove towards the containers. He barely managed to catch his balance before he was driven forwards again by a blow between his shoulder blades.

"This who you were hoping for?" The man asked, allowing the agent to stop after a few more steps.

Brad broke away from his father's suddenly reaching arms and took a step, "Hello, Fed."

"Brad, no!" Nelson ordered as he tried again to stop his son.

Brad shook him off and kept coming, a distinctly feral grin plastered on his face. "Thanks for the present, Dad. I've been waiting for this."

.


	8. Chapter 8

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

As the escapee stalked closer Don moved.

He pivoted and brought his hands up, clenching his fists together to add power behind his strike. Luck was with him in that moment as the goon behind him was just a fraction too slow and took the blow to his chin. Don dove after the man as he staggered back, swinging again and getting in a second solid hit. This was not the time to fight fair so he followed up with a vicious kick between the man's legs, dropping him in a wheezing heap. He heard yelling behind him and had no time to waste, bending quickly he tugged at the large revolver in the man's waistband and pulled the weapon free. In the same move he took off running, trying for the driveway and the roadway beyond, escape his best option. Footsteps pounded all too close behind him.

"No!" Brad shouted.

Two close shots forced Don to jink left, close enough to the back wall of one of the sheds that he bounced off it. He rolled and made it back to his feet, dodging as Brad again brought up his gun and took off running again, now back towards the shipping containers as the other man herded him away from the driveway. The dark shadows on offer between them his new goal and, if he could dare to hope, a hole in the fence beyond. The other option, taking on, or even worse, taking down Brad was not workable.

Glancing back to check his pursuer's location he wasn't careful of his own path and found his leg caught. He fell, tumbling over Brad's accomplice. Kicking he broke free from the grasping hand as the man reared up and saw only a brief flash of silver before fire lanced through his left leg. The knife was pulled free from his thigh and lifted again ready to plunge downwards somewhere a bit higher up. He was so not doing that again. Bringing up the gun Don fired at almost point blank range into man. Three shots and the man collapsed but not before the knife once again drove into his flesh, fortunately lower than it had been aimed.

Despite the knife being buried deep into his upper thigh a second time he barely felt the pain as he kicked the body off him. He scrambled back and pulled the knife free, tossing the blade aside in the same motion, all the while keeping a firm grip on the gun he'd stolen. He ignored the sudden warmth that spread down the outside of his leg in favour of the more urgent need to find Brad.

Brad was scuffling with his father and younger brother less than ten yards away. Time in prison had clearly taught him how to fight however. A swift punch and a shoving kick sent Paul sprawling and his father staggering back. The fugitive turned to find his target.

"You're mine, Fed."

Don ignored the shout, already moving away towards the shadows and hopefully concealment. He'd barely made two yards before he felt the punch to his right shoulder and the blaze across his ribs. For an instant he'd thought Brad had caught him but then he registered the gunshots. He staggered and spun about, automatically raising his gun to return fire when the next round took him high in his right chest. He went down hard and landed on his back, his shout of pain lost as the wind was knocked out of him.

As Don struggled to get air back into his lungs Brad paused a few yards away to admire his handiwork.

"I was going to start with your arm, but I guess we can get to that."

"Bradley, stop!" Nelson ordered, putting as much fatherly command into the word that he could. He moved in quickly but was still too far away.

Brad turned briefly and Don used the distraction to try to regain his feet, managing somehow to get vertical. His balance was off but he moved, shifting the gun from his almost senseless right hand to his left as he staggered away. Another shot rang out and he was shocked when he felt no new pain, Brad had missed. His flinch though, was his undoing causing him to stumble over his own feet. He crashed back to the ground and knew he couldn't get up again. Twisting his head to find Brad closing in he reacted purely on instinct, his left arm dragging the gun up against the dead weight of his right.

With no time for thought he fired.

The moment the bullet left his gun Don knew. For that instant he almost wished he could take it back, almost, if it wasn't a black or white case of Brad or him. But it was already too late. The echo of the shot seemed to linger in the air as the front of Brad's shirt flooded with red after the bullet struck home in his heart.

From his prone position Don could only watch as time slowed to a crawl and events followed their natural course. He didn't notice when his arms sank to the ground in front of him as the effort of holding up his gun became all too much.

First, Brad's gun slipped from his hand to fall with a dull thud to the dirt. His mouth worked but only blood came out in a small trickle that ran down his chin and dripped to join the blood on his now sodden shirt. His eyes turned to seek out his father as his knees slowly buckled beneath him. Nelson appeared from nowhere at Brad's side and caught his dying son as he tipped sideways off his knees, easing him to the ground and trying to soothe him as he convulsed.

Nelson was shouting but Don couldn't hear the words, his attention drawn and captured by the younger man's eyes that now sought him out. Don no longer felt his own wounds, his own pain, as he watched Brad's life drain away. Brad gave one last jerk before his body relaxed totally, the now empty eyes still fixed on the agent who had killed him.

The world returned to normal speed with Nelson giving out a wordless cry of pain and rage as he tightened his grip, cradling his dead son. Moments passed before, with infinite care, he relaxed and eased the body gently to the ground. He knelt a moment longer, his hand resting lightly on his son's hair before he raised his head.

Now Don found himself caught in the older man's gaze, the anguish all too raw and strong. Then it happened in a blink of an eye, Nelson was up and moving and Don struggled to bring up his gun but he was too slow. The weapon was kicked from his hands and Nelson was kneeling on him, left knee almost over his chest wound. The muzzle of the older man's gun pressed hard over his heart, right where his bullet had struck home to kill Brad.

"You," Nelson started, his voice rough and shaking. "You..."

Don tried to swallow and opened his mouth to speak but the gun and Nelson's knee on his chest shoved even harder and the words were lost in a gasp as his own injuries were aggravated.

"No!" Nelson growled. "You don't get to say anything!"

Helpless, Don could only lay there, struggling to breathe around the pain and the pressure.

"You killed my son!"

"Nelson," Don forced the word out. "Scott-"

"No!" Nelson shouted as he shifted, moving his gun so his aim was now centred on the injured agent's forehead.

From a few inches away Don couldn't help but try to focus on the muzzle. He forced his eyes shut and broke the stare, reopening them to seek out the man's face. Ignoring the order to stay quiet he got the words out, his voice raspy, "I had no choice."

The response was harsh, "You could have died."

"No."

"You could have let him kill you."

"No," Don repeated, stronger this time.

"Now I have the choice," Nelson said quietly, dangerously. The hard angles from the single spotlight only added emphasis to the threat, casting half his face into darkness.

The anger and tension in Nelson's body had Don convinced he was about to die. He was on borrowed time but he would take every extra moment he had. He coughed to clear his throat and it whilst it was still hard to breathe properly it was certainly easier without the man's weight on his chest. "Yes. Yes, you can choose whether I live or not. My choice was him or me, I chose to live. Your choice is murder," he explained, pausing to get a breath. "You are not a murderer. You are not your son."

"My son!" Nelson repeated. His gun shook as it dipped closer. "My. Son."

"Your son was a murderer. He chose his path, his fate," Don continued. He fought to ignore the gun so threateningly close and continued to look at the face over him, not sure which was the more frightening.

Everything that had happened since he'd met the once reluctant witness all came down to choices, his choice to escort Nelson for the chance of an early trip home just as Nelson chose to pull him from the wreckage of the plane after the crash rather than simply escaping. Don had made another choice tonight, taking the accomplice's weapon in order to give himself the best chance of surviving the encounter with the murderous escapee. He'd done everything he could to avoid taking Brad on knowing that Nelson's reaction now was the likely outcome. He'd tried to flee rather than fight, but in the end he'd had no other option.

"I had a choice and I made it. Now you have to make yours. You have my life in your hands."

"In my hands," Nelson repeated. "Just like you had my son's."

Don was sure it was over but the older man just continued to stare downwards. It was almost as if Nelson didn't know what was going to do next even if Don was sure he knew the older man's path. He could hope though and could try to talk the man down. He wasn't sure if Nelson was hearing him clearly but he needed to make the distinction, "No, not like that. He was armed and trying to kill me. I acted in self defence. This is murder. I'm not a threat to you."

Nelson didn't respond, his almost point blank aim still true despite the tremors in his hand.

He pushed, "After you kill me then what? What of your life?"

"My life is gone, my son is dead!" Nelson shouted. The gun moved away for a moment as he gestured to the still body that Paul was bending over but soon returned. Nelson's next words had even more menace than before, "You killed my son."

"But what about Paul?" Don demanded in desperation as his words backfired. He tried to continue but as the gun touched his forehead his voice failed him. Nelson's face twisted in grief, rage and effort, the weapon shaking as the pressure increased.

"Dad, no!"

Nelson's head jerked up and Don somehow managed to follow his gaze to see the younger son stop a yard away. "Paul," Nelson's voice choked on the word.

"Please, Dad. You can't."

"He killed Brad."

Paul stared at Don for a long moment. He wrung his bloodied hands, glancing back at the body he'd just checked for life. "I know but you can't kill him. You saw what happened, he tried to run but Brad chased him, made him shoot..." his voice broke on the word but he cleared his throat and continued, "You can see he tried his best to kill him. He wanted to live."

Nelson misunderstood, repeating the words as an accusation to the man under his gun, "Brad wanted to live."

"Brad wanted to kill," Don corrected. "I didn't. I'm sorry, but I had to."

"Don't shoot him," Paul pleaded. "This is not who you are, Dad. Please."

Nelson started breathing hard, his gaze flickering from his youngest son to the body and then back to the agent. He held the agent's eyes for a few long moments before he abruptly pulled his gun away and stood.

"Dad," Paul started, his voice filled with relief. "Come on, we -"

Nelson suddenly let out another cry of grief but there was also frustration in the sound.

Don had started to relax but suddenly froze as the gun came up. He jerked in reaction as Nelson pulled the trigger.

He drew a shuddering breath and then another as he saw the mark on the ground all too close beside his head. He looked up to Nelson but the older man was ignoring him in favour of hugging his youngest son to him. Don realised the shot had not been intended to kill him but an attempt to take the pressure off his angst. It took some more painful breaths before he dared to move to assess his injuries, it hurt but he couldn't bear to keep lying so helplessly on his back. Taking more effort than it should he only managed to raise himself enough to lean on his left elbow. He looked down at himself and saw his shirt was soaked in blood down his right side from the chest wound and the graze across his side. The shoulder wound he couldn't see even as he felt the pain of it. Moving his gaze lower saw the left leg of his jeans was likewise soaked from the knife wounds. It wasn't good, he'd lost and was still losing a fair amount of blood and he knew that any chest wound was potentially life threatening, but for now he was still alive. He shifted again, gasping in pain but needed to try to find an escape route even as he knew there was no way he was capable of getting himself out of there.

A figure suddenly appeared over him and he started, falling back as he recognised Nelson. As he hit the ground he couldn't help the grunt of pain even as he bit it short. He also couldn't help the flinch as Nelson reached out a hand.

"Get up," Nelson ordered.

Don looked to the empty hand in confusion, it was Nelson's right but his check showed the gun still in the man's other hand.

"Up!" Nelson repeated as he bent.

Don tried to avoid the reaching hand but with his injured right shoulder he didn't have the strength and Nelson was able to take his upper left arm in a firm grip, the cuffs jerking his right painfully. Nelson didn't react to Don's gasp, just pulled steadily forcing him to struggle to get his right leg under him, finding his left now barely able to support any weight. He was finally pulled mostly upright, leaning heavily on the older man and baffled as to Nelson's intention. "What are you doing?"

"Dad?" Paul queried at the same time, clearly just as puzzled. "He's badly hurt, leave him."

"We have to go," Nelson explained, ignoring his youngest son's words.

Hearing the approaching sirens Don understood Nelson's need to go but didn't understand why he was once again the man's focus. He wasn't really sure what he'd expected the other man to do but abandoning his dead son in favour of taking him made no sense. It was all over. There was time for Nelson to take his youngest son, even his oldest if he so wished and escape, the sirens were far enough away for that.

Nelson pulled at him and Don was too seriously injured to do anything other than move as best he could. He was half dragged over to the car as Paul moved in and took hold of the waistband of his jeans and lifted to help support him. They reached the car and Nelson adjusted his hold preparatory to shoving him in the back, forcing Paul to move out of the way.

"Leave me," Don said repeating Paul's suggestion.

Nelson ignored him and forced him roughly into the car and onto the seat.

"Nelson," Don tried again, gasping against the pain, but stopped as the gun came up.

"You don't get to ask me for anything," the older man said in a low, tight voice. "Clear?"

The agent swallowed in a suddenly dry throat and used the remaining strength in his left arm and right leg to get himself far enough into the car that the door could be closed. Exhausted he recognised the signs of blood loss. Unable to do anything else he lay back across the seat and allowed his eyes to close.

The wheels spun in the dirt as Paul got the car moving. They bumped over the curb causing Don to groan in pain and sped off. He braced himself as they swung around the corners until Nelson instructed his son to slow and the ride became smoother. He shifted in an effort to make himself more comfortable but wasn't successful.

He suddenly understood what Nelson was doing. There was a reason to take him away with them and it wasn't for protection against the approaching police, there was time enough to get away clean. Nelson had warned the FBI what would happen if Brad was killed. The situation now was worse than Nelson had feared. He'd witnessed his son's death and had the man responsible for that in his hands. Nelson may have spared him a few minutes ago but he was giving himself another chance at revenge.

After that first call to David he had asked Nelson if he could murder in cold blood. Now he began to fear Nelson could.

.


	9. Chapter 9

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

Looking at the scene in the harsh glare of the crime scene spotlights David could only feel a deep sense of dread. Brad Nelson was very much dead.

"David?"

He looked up to see Colby waving at him from a few yards away. He carefully followed the flagged path over and stared down at the second body, dubbed Deceased One. Whilst it was far from clear what had happened here, the extreme violence was all too evident. The man was completely unrecognisable with the medical examiner's preliminary examination suggesting he'd taken at least two, if not more bullets directly to the face.

"Anything?"

"Prints are a match for Darius Kieran Gray, 26. Priors for numerous robberies, assaults and one count of attempted vehicular homicide of a police officer. He was also a suspect on a couple of homicides but nothing proven. He spent time in the same jail as Brad but was released three months ago."

"Probably one of the two that busted him out," David mused. He looked over at the other man then back. Not for the first time he measured the distances and angles between the two. "There's no way they killed each other."

Colby stood and shook his head. The experts were only just setting up their measuring equipment but they'd already determined that.

Which lead them to the third discovery at the scene. David turned and again followed the marked path to the patch of disturbed ground. A technician was gathering a number of blood samples from across the patch, there was plenty for the woman to choose from.

"Have we got a volume?"

"The ME said it was not enough to be immediately fatal, assuming it is from an adult," Colby reported. "But she did say that this much in such a short time would indicate life threatening injuries. Whoever it is will need urgent treatment or they could well be dead by morning."

"They made it from over there to here," David said thoughtfully. There was a clear trail of blood and scuff marks from the now identified Gray to here. Whoever it was had been able to make it this far. Where the victim was now though was the mystery. He looked up as one of the forensic agents approached, a number of small evidence bags in hand. "What have you got?"

"Shell casings," the man said holding the bags up where Agent Sinclair could see. "Three from near Deceased one and one from here. Orange flags."

David checked the coloured flags marking the locations and reached out a hand for the evidence bags. The shell casings all looked the same to him. He looked closer at the firing pin marks through the clear plastic and the position was also the same on each. "They all match."

The man looked a little uncomfortable but answered the question, "We think so. We will need to check under a microscope to be sure."

"I know," David acknowledged. The forensic agents were very thorough and prided themselves on accuracy and were generally loathe to jump to conclusions or assumption. The use of the same coloured flags however suggested they were fairly certain they were a match. They were certainly a different calibre from the other casings he'd already seen, collected in an arc marked by blue flags. It seemed as if the other shooter was on the move as he fired. At this stage that shooter appeared to be Brad based on the .44 semi-automatic weapon located near the body which was a match as far as calibre. The second gun, a .357 revolver, had been found a short distance from the bloodied patch of ground. "So, what does it look like?"

Knowing the importance of Deceased Two to the current Missing Agent Alert the forensic agent put aside his ingrained reluctance to speculate and laid out their early rough idea of what had happened. "Our unknown player had an altercation with Deceased One where he was wounded, probably by the knife we found near the body. Our unknown has shot Deceased One a number of times killing him. It appears the unknown was then under fire and pursued by Deceased Two. It will take us a while to confirm whether any of the rounds found a target. Our unknown has then collapsed here before firing on Deceased Two, killing him instantly with a round to the heart."

"Any idea on what has happened to him?" David asked, waving at the blood.

"Scuff marks indicate he was still alive when he was taken away with the assistance of one or more likely two other unknowns," the agent reported. He pointed at the trail in the dirt that led to a set of tyre tracks. "Looks like a sedan. We'll get tyre print analysis done soon to determine likely models."

"Anything else?"

"We also have two rounds from Deceased Two's firearm located over near the side of the shed over there that we haven't worked into the scenario as yet. We're about to start laser mapping which should give us a better picture."

David nodded. He waved at Colby and they picked their way back out of the scene followed by the technician and the other agent. With the scene cleared they would be able to get to work on their mapping. He looked back over the scene, at the various coloured markers and the two bodies. He could only hope that the initial responders, as well as their own movements about the scene had not destroyed crucial evidence.

Then his gaze settled again on the body of Brad Nelson and he realised evidence was the least of their concerns for the moment. ADIC Wright was already aware that the fugitive was deceased. What they had to work on now was how they were going to break the news to the man's father. They were doing their damndest to keep the media at bay but that wouldn't last long. They had to tell Nelson before he heard it on the news.

Foremost in all their minds was the fact that an agent's life was hanging in the balance.

.

* * *

.

Expecting a long, painful trip back to the cabin Don was surprised when Paul pulled right and stopped after only a few minutes. Nelson also seemed surprised.

"Paul?"

"I'll be right back," the younger man said urgently. He left the car running but got out.

"Paul!"

There was no answer, Paul was gone. Don tried to get himself up enough to see but it was beyond him. Not willing to ask Nelson he could only wait. Nelson looked back over the seat at him and he stared steadily back. Finally the older man looked away, opening his car door. Fear spiked through Don but Nelson simply moved around the car to the driver's seat.

It was a long few minutes before Paul came running back. He opened the front passenger door and shoved in a box and a few bags. He dug into one of them, retrieving some items before closing the door only to reopen the back door next to Don's head. Don managed to twist somehow, half falling off the seat and made space as Paul squeezed in.

"Paul, what?"

"He could die, Dad," Paul said as he pulled some latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on in a well practiced motion. "If I don't do something now he might not make it back to the cabin."

Nelson once again caught the agent's eye in a hard stare. He turned away without another word and started driving.

Don closed his eyes for a moment, the look had spoken volumes. Nelson didn't care if he died.

He gasped as Paul started pulling at him so he opened his eyes to see what the man was trying to do. Paul had shifted himself off the seat and was kneeling in the narrow foot well. He pulled again and this time Don tried to help using his right leg but he had no strength. The young man managed without his help and got Don around so he was lying across the full width of the seat again. Paul reached down and came back up with something that flashed silver in a passing streetlight. Don flinched but there was nowhere to go as the object descended. In the light of another streetlight he was able to see it was a pair of scissors just as Paul started cutting away at his shirt to expose his chest, side and shoulder. Paul moved lower and cut away at the jeans, the cheap scissors finding the heavier material hard going but Paul persevered. Next Paul tore open a box of tissues and pulled out a thick folded wad placing it against the bullet wound on his chest, another wad went against the unseen wound at the back of his shoulder. The knife wounds were treated the same way. Some rough work with sticky tape got the improvised dressings to stay in place. The dressings on his shoulder, chest and leg were then covered with what Don figured to be tea towels, the cloth bound in place with more tape, this time wrapped as tightly as Paul could manage to apply pressure. He cursorily checked the wound on Don's side before putting a thin pad of tissues over it and left it at that, clearly that wound was not serious. Paul twisted around and pulled a bag from the front seat, getting it into the back. He drew out a couple of bath towels that he shook out and laid over Don as a blanket. Another was rolled and placed under his head. Despite the pain caused by the necessary jostling Don was impressed with Paul's efforts. Not done yet he twisted around again, coming back with a large bottle.

"Here, you need to drink," Paul offered as he opened the bottle and held it up.

Desperately thirsty Don didn't need any further encouragement, drinking deeply as Paul supported his head. The water was room temperature and he'd guzzled half the bottle before coming up for air, gasping.

Paul moved the bottle away and waited as the agent caught his breath. "More?"

Don nodded and finished the rest the same way. He felt bloated but still thirsty. He well understood what that meant; he'd lost a dangerous amount of blood.

"Rest a bit," Paul instructed. "I have more."

"Thanks," Don managed.

The younger man nodded then frowned as he pulled the blanketing towels aside and peeked under the edges of the crude dressings. He put the towels back to keep the agent warm. "I'm sorry but this is going to hurt, I have to put some more pressure on those wounds for a bit. Okay?"

"I understand," Don said as Paul shifted position. He braced himself for the pain but he couldn't bite back his cry as Paul pressed down on his chest and leg.

His chest, shoulder and leg throbbed but he realised Paul was no longer pressing down on him. Don blinked and got his eyes open, understanding now that he must have passed out. He saw that they were still in the car so he figured he wasn't out for too long. Paul was leaning over him and he felt a hand on the pulse point on his neck but it lifted away.

"Hey, you're back," Paul greeted.

"Can I have more water?"

"Here," Paul said, holding up a bottle, cap already off. He waited until the agent was done, recapping the almost empty bottle. "How do you feel?"

"Bad," Don said honestly.

"I think I've got the worst of the bleeding stopped for now. It's hard to tell how serious it is in the dark but I think you might be okay," Paul explained. "Rest now, we'll be back at the cabin soon and I'll be able to get a better look."

Don closed his eyes again only to open them as they jerked to a stop. He realised he must have passed out again as Nelson got out and figured they had to be back at the cabin. That was confirmed as Nelson pulled the door open at his feet and reached in.

"No, Dad!" Paul said quickly, forced to climb into the front to get out due to the child locks. He raced around the front of the car. "Wait! Easy, let me help!"

Don had regained some of his strength and helped as best he could as Nelson didn't wait, pulling at him and dragging him out. Paul made it in time to prevent Don from hitting the ground, getting him upright. Between them they half dragged, half carried him across to and up the stairs and into the cabin.

They kept moving and Don found himself half flung, half lowered to the bed. He knew he'd lost consciousness for a moment as he next saw Nelson leaning over him as Paul came up behind him with the battery lamp. He felt the older man working at his hands and the cuff came free from his right wrist. Nelson moved away slightly and suddenly jerked at Don's left arm via the cuff that he still held, dragging Don across the bed towards the edge. Trying unsuccessfully to bite back another cry of pain at the unexpected move he understood a moment later as his left wrist was cuffed once again to the frame.

"Dad, take them off! He can't go anywhere," Paul protested.

Nelson ignored him. He backed off and looked down at the injured agent for a long moment before moving away.

"I'll be back," Paul advised before hurrying off out the door.

Don barely saw him go instead watching as Nelson slowly lowered himself into the easy chair across the room. The older man said nothing, just continued to stare at him. Don swallowed at the dark expression.

The stare was only broken as Paul returned, lugging a box and some bags. They were dumped on the floor near the bed before the younger man went to the kitchen area, lighting the stove and setting the kettle to heat. He dug a bowl out of a cupboard then collected his medical kit and the gas lamp. Bringing everything over he got the lamp lit and put on a fresh pair of gloves before glancing back at his silently watching father. "Dad, give me a hand."

The older man didn't move.

"Dad?"

"Leave him be," Nelson ordered, his voice rough.

"No! Dad he needs help, help me."

"He gets nothing from me."

"You brought him here," Paul stated. He started digging into his kit. "If you'd left him behind he would already be at hospital."

"He should get nothing from you," Nelson said.

Paul stilled for a moment, looking at the injured agent to see him staring back at his father. He expected the agent to speak in his own defence but he stayed silent. He also turned, "I'm helping him."

Turning the gas up to brighten the lamp he spread out his supplies and equipment. "Agent, I'm helping you, okay?"

Don broke his stare and looked up at the younger man to find him waiting. He frowned slightly before remembering EMTs sought their potential patient's permission before working on them where the patient was able to give it. Back in the car he hadn't asked but he'd believed the injuries to be life threatening and needed to act to save his patient's life. Now it was not so urgent. Don considered his answer, he wanted help, and he wanted to live but realistically thought there was no point to Paul's aid. He glanced back at Nelson until a touch on his left arm had him looking up.

"Agent, please," Paul started, his voice soft. "Let me help you."

"I don't understand. I killed your brother."

Paul's head dropped and he remained quiet for a minute. When he spoke again his voice was still low, this conversation was between the two of them only. "You did. He was my brother and seeing that, knowing that you did that is difficult. But I know you had to. I don't know if you believe me but even though he was my brother he was everything I hated in a person. I hadn't liked him for a long time and there had always been something off about him. After the plane crash, after the way he enjoyed twisting your broken arm I knew I had to have nothing more to do with him. I went to school and became an EMT to try to pay back what he did. When I heard about the robberies, what he did to get Dad out of jail I knew I'd been right about him. But he was my brother so when Dad asked for help I had to come back. I would rather he had lived, had been put back in jail but I knew it was more likely this would happen."

Don couldn't hide his surprise as the words spilled out, the admission the last thing he expected to hear. He remembered Paul not seeming to like his brother all that much even before Brad had twisted his broken arm. Over the years investigating violent crimes he'd seen cases of brother against brother so he could believe Paul. It even made sense that he would have tried to help his father keep his brother alive. As much as he may have hated Brad, the family connection was stronger.

"But Dad didn't see Brad the same way," Paul continued. "He knew something was wrong but he refused to fully believe it, even after all that. He will now, he just needs time. I became an EMT for a reason, I need to fix what Brad did, let me help you."

Even after hearing that Don still found it hard to believe that Paul was so bent on helping him but he wanted to live. Finally Don gave a single nod.

Paul left him briefly, returning with the kettle of now warm water which he poured into the bowl. Working slowly and carefully Paul checked the dressing over Don's leg then chest. He started working at the leg wound first, Don saw why as the soaked tissue and covering cloth was removed, it was still bleeding. Paul apologised as the tape tore away hair with it, the small pain magnified by the proximity to the wounds. Don waved off the apology with a small movement of his right hand. Paul worked quickly, cleaning the two wounds and dousing them with a tube of antiseptic before applying large absorbent dressings and firmly wrapping compression bandages around the leg. He turned his attention to the chest wound next, removing the dressing and cleaning away the blood before feeling gently around the wound. He broke open another vial of antiseptic and washed a pair of long forceps.

"I'm not supposed to do this but given the circumstances I think I should try," Paul explained.

Don realised he intended to probe the wound and perhaps remove the bullet if he could reach it. It would start the wound bleeding again but leaving the slug in could be more harmful than digging it out. "Okay."

"You need to hold still," Paul warned as he clicked on a small flashlight.

Don could only nod again and brace himself. He managed for a few seconds but twitched as the forceps probed deeply. Paul shoved his flashlight into his mouth and used his other hand to press Don's shoulder down in an effort to immobilise him.

Don groaned and shifted. His entire upper right side felt like it was on fire, his thigh not as bad but painful for all that. He tensed against the pain but that only made it worse and he forced himself to relax, breathing shallowly to lessen the movement of his chest.

"Easy Agent, you've been out for a while."

Don blinked and got his eyes to work. Paul was sitting next to him on one of the chairs from the table. He looked down at himself and saw fresh clean dressings on his chest, side and leg. Alarmingly his right arm had been put into a sling and looked like it had then been bound in place across his chest. He tried to move it and failed. Automatically he went to move his left arm but was brought up short by the cuffs.

"Easy," Paul said again, his hand pushing the agent's left down. "He won't let me take them off. I'm sorry."

"Then undo this," Don demanded with a jerk of his head to his right arm. He tried to move it again, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and chest feeling trapped and totally helpless.

"No, you need to keep that arm still."

His distress at his situation forced the word out, "Please."

Paul could see how upset the agent was, the effort he was making to hold back tears but he had to hold firm. "I can't. If you have the arm free you will aggravate the injuries. You are in enough danger from them as it is."

"Paul," Don started.

"Agent, please," Paul interrupted. "I'll look after you."

Don squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm himself down. Paul was right, he knew that but couldn't help how he felt. He recognised that his usual control over himself was greatly weakened by his physical injuries and the stress he was under but he worked at it and finally got himself back together. Embarrassed he opened his eyes, no longer pricking with frustrated tears. He expected pity but Paul simply held up a plastic tumbler.

"Here, you need to drink some more. Think you could try some juice?"

Don managed two cups before he'd had enough. "The bullet?"

"I got it, and the one in your shoulder. I had to clean the wounds aggressively, I'm sure they hurt a lot at the moment but they were full of dirt," he added.

"How bad?"

"You might have died if I didn't get most of the bleeding stopped earlier. You lost a lot of blood."

"Thank-you."

"It's our fault you were hurt," Paul said. "Anyway, you're no longer bleeding but I can't do much about the risk of infection other than drown everything in antiseptic which I've done."

He knew that was a serious danger. Hopefully if the wounds were cleaned as harshly as they felt Paul may have caught the worst of it. He wondered how much antiseptic was in the EMT kit, in lieu of antibiotics, and a hospital, liberal applications of the stuff were needed. He sniffed suddenly as he thought he could smell, "Mint?"

Paul poured some more juice into the tumbler. "I bought some mouthwash at the store when we stopped along with the rest of the stuff. It's mostly alcohol. I don't have enough chlorhexidine."

Again, despite everything else, Don found himself impressed, the younger man was able to think on his feet and improvise. That thought had him thinking on the father who had raised him and he looked over to the easy chair to find it empty.

"He's sleeping," Paul supplied. "Drink."

He managed some more juice then followed Paul's recommendation to rest. Closing his eyes he felt himself dropping off to sleep almost immediately.

.


	10. Chapter 10

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN**

It was daylight when he woke again. The chair beside the bed was empty but not the easy chair across the room. Don felt a surge of alarm at the brooding stare and felt his complete helplessness all the more. He was utterly powerless against anything the man might do to him. At the moment at least Nelson seemed content to simply stare at him. Breaking the stare Don looked around to find no sign of Paul. It was early and he hoped the younger man was just sleeping in the bunkroom. He did not want to be alone with Nelson.

The silence dragged and became oppressive. Don tried to rest, but every time he looked over Nelson was staring fixedly back at him. It had probably only been about an hour but he could finally bear the silence no longer, he had to at least try to talk to the man.

"Nelson," Don started. He saw the older man's face darken but pressed on. "Scott, I'm sorry. I am, but I had no choice, he gave me no choice."

Nelson's face darkened further and he slowly stood. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for his holster and pulled his gun free.

Don went cold all over even as a sudden dump of adrenalin hit his system leaving his heart racing. Nelson took a step towards him. "Nelson, stop!"

Don thought he heard a thud from behind the wall, from the direction of the bunk room but he had attention only for the approaching man and the gun held up towards him. He couldn't help pulling against the cuffs but they held firm, there was nowhere he could go. "Don't do this."

"Dad, no!" Paul shouted from the doorway.

Nelson stopped and regarded his son before letting his hand lower. "He doesn't talk to me," he instructed in a low and dangerous voice.

"It's alright, Dad. He won't talk to you," Paul said moving forward. As the gun lowered he gently ushered his father back to the chair.

Don watched as Nelson finally sat and resumed his brooding stare with one difference. His gun remained under his hand resting on his knee. Don looked away, it had been all too close, was still too close. Nelson was off the rails and Don clearly recognised the level of danger he was in.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up at Paul, the younger man blocking his view of Nelson. Don kept his voice low, barely a whisper, "Thank-you."

"He needs time," Paul repeated from the night before. "When mom died no one could talk to him. He was never this bad. I've never seen him like this and with the gun he," Paul broke off, casting a quick glance back at his father. "Agent, I'll do my best but think he could kill you if you don't let him have time."

There was no 'could' about it, Don thought. Nelson would kill him. Mindful of the need to keep quiet he nodded again.

Paul perched on the edge of the chair and reached down into his kit and pulled out a fresh pair of gloves. "Let me look at you."

Don held still and let Paul work.

"I'll leave these be for a bit but I'll re-dress them in a little while," Paul decided. "If we keep them clean and we keep your fluids up I think you'll be okay. I'll get you some more juice. Do you need anything else?"

He hesitated but there was no way around it. "The washroom," Don finally whispered.

"I'll get the key."

Don watched as Paul approached his father with the request. Nelson seemed set to ignore his son but Paul was insistent and eventually Nelson moved. Don caught his breath unable to help the alarm as Nelson stood and once again approached rather than simply handing the key off to his son. His eyes flickered down to the gun still held in the man's hand but it wasn't raised. Nelson instead swapped it across to his left before pulling the handcuff key from his pocket. Don barely breathed as Nelson fitted the key into the cuff around the frame and opened it. He stood back as Paul moved in.

Accepting the younger man's help Don made it to the washroom. Nelson followed close behind, a menacing presence. Don convinced Paul to give him some privacy and he was relieved when the younger man stepped out, pulling the door partly to behind him. He could barely move and everything hurt but he did what he needed and washed up. Paul helped him back to the bed and eased him down. Nelson stepped in immediately, grabbing roughly at Don's wrist and again pulling his arm down to the frame. The dangling cuff was snapped back into place and the lock turned. Paul looked as if to argue with his father but changed his mind.

Don couldn't help but look over to see Nelson had resumed his seat, and his stare. He had to turn away again, the intense scrutiny too much. He was trying to keep his own thoughts locked down, the fact that he'd been forced to kill another two men weighed heavily on him. Since his time with Bradford he knew he needed to talk it out. Intellectually he knew it had been totally justified but he needed to hear it from someone else. Paul had been incredibly understanding but he could hardly talk this through with the next of kin of one of the very men he'd killed. Just as he couldn't discuss it within any sort of earshot of the man who had nearly killed him, and still might, because of it. If only he'd tried harder after stealing the accomplice's gun, he should have tried to circle back to the driveway and resume his break for the street. Or maybe he should have surrendered to Brad in the hope that Nelson could control his son's urges before he did too much damage or worse. He'd been forced into the corner he'd warned Nelson about and had reacted, doing the only thing he thought he could at the time. It was totally justified, a clean shoot but ... With effort Don stopped his line of thought as it started to spiral. He had to push his own concerns down and deal with it later, if there was a later. He had to survive this first. Years of practice finally paid off and he pushed it back.

Instead Don distracted himself by watching Paul as he moved about the kitchen preparing something for breakfast that he brought over to his father, along with a cup of coffee. Don looked away for those few moments, counting the knots in the wood of the wall beside him rather than be caught in Nelson's stare again. Finally Paul returned to his side with a tumbler of juice and a bowl.

"Do you think you could manage some cereal?"

Determined not to speak, no matter how softly, unless he could help it he nodded again. Paul propped a couple of the cushions under his back and got him upright enough to eat safely. It was embarrassing to be spoon fed but with both arms immobilised he was forced to accept it and soon finished the bowl and then the tumbler of juice. Paul started to pull the cushions back out but stopped as Don shook his head.

"You want to sit up?" Paul asked. At the positive nod he firmed up the cushions so they would stay in place. "Better?"

Don nodded. There was less pressure on his shoulder wound and his chest felt better.

Paul moved away and Don watched him tidy up the kitchen area. He then brought over Don's phone, switching it on. Once it had stopped beeping with a message alert after acquiring the network Paul dialled the voicemail number, putting the phone on speaker.

The first was an automated message from fleet reminding him of the service due on his SUV. The next was from a bookshop advising his order had arrived. They were normal, everyday messages that seemed unreal in the current context. Nelson reacted to the next message, standing and moving quickly over.

"_Mr Nelson, this is David Sinclair. Please call me back when you get this."_ The agent hesitated, _"It's about Brad."_

Paul pressed the end button as the service indicated there were no more messages. Nelson took the phone and shut it off.

.

* * *

.

Rubbing his hand down his face David willed the coffee to kick in and give him a boost. The night had been long and he'd put his head down a number of times on his desk to try to get a few minutes sleep but he kept jerking awake imagining he could hear his phone. He was in the incident room, his phone mounted in a cradle that kept it charged and connected it to the recording equipment. A technician sat monitoring the tracing equipment set for Don's cell ready to react the moment the network detected it.

They'd spent a good half the night at the crime scene before returning to the office. He'd given a full briefing to the ADIC and had finally made the call to Don's cell for Nelson. Nothing had happened for the rest of the night and he envied Colby his skill at sleeping anywhere, anytime. Colby suddenly demonstrated another skill, waking instantly alert as Rachel called out.

"Cell's active," Rachel announced.

Knowing better than to ask David couldn't help it, "Where?"

"Tracing."

David tried not to get his hopes up. The cell had been active before, presumably as Nelson checked Don's messages, but each time it had been for barely enough time to do more than ping a tower. So far all they'd gained from those activations was possible hits on a number of towers in the hills above LA. Their equipment couldn't do any better than that and even the cell company that owned those towers wasn't able to give them more than weak signal strength indicating the cell could be some distance away and no indication of direction.

After about a minute the technician looked up. "Tower at Onyx Peak, near Big Bear."

Another hit in almost the same area.

"Lost it."

"Direction?"

"Signal was too weak, it could have been moving," Rachel said with a shake of her head.

It fitted with their current theory that Nelson was holding Don somewhere in an area between Lucerne Valley and Los Angeles. But there was a lot of real estate in the area, a sparse population and geographic features that served to make the accuracy of their data doubtful. Nevertheless he had all LEOs in those areas alerted for anything out of place.

"That means he's got the message," Colby said. "He'll call soon."

Time passed. ADIC Wright had arrived and was briefed on the latest activation of the cell when the awaited call finally came through, a good hour later.

"Cell's active," Rachel announced just as Wright was about to walk out the door. A few seconds later she looked up, "Incoming."

David's cell rang an instant later and he took a deep settling breath before pointing at Rachel in a signal for the call to be accepted. He pressed the button on the equipment on the table in front of him to activate the microphone and speaker, "Sinclair."

"_You wanted me to call,"_ Nelson stated, his voice flat.

David suddenly got a very bad feeling, glancing across at Colby and Wright he saw they'd also picked up on the tone. The call was already going to be bad enough but clearly something was already wrong. There was nothing for it but to press on.

"Yes," David answered. "We found your son. We found Brad."

The line remained silent. David took another few breaths before delivering the news, "Brad is dead."

"_I know,"_ Nelson said heavily.

David's next words were hurried, "I'm sorry Mr Nelson, but we found him that way. Along with a second man, also dead. We didn't -"

"_I know."_

The agent digested that for a moment. "You know? You were there?"

"_We were."_

Nelson's use of the word 'we' had not gone unnoticed with Wright, Colby and the other two agents in the room moving closer in silent support as the call progressed.

"We also found a lot of blood that wasn't his, or the other man's," David stated carefully. "Whose?"

"_Eppes',"_ Nelson said simply.

David sat heavily, mirrored a moment later by Wright. Colby gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. The other two agents and the technician, less familiar with the missing agent still felt the news hit home, it was one of their own. They were all aware of the medical examiner's official report, that the unknown person's blood loss would likely not have been fatal if the victim had received medical aid as she'd explained to Colby at the scene. Without aid however, she expected the victim could die within a time frame of a few hours to half a day. With Don being identified as that victim, in circumstances where he was not likely to get that aid, they could only draw one conclusion.

Don was dead.

David tried to speak but his throat had closed up. He coughed to clear it, then took a mouthful of his bitter coffee in an effort to gain much needed moisture. "Where is he?"

"_Where is my son, Agent Sinclair?"_

"With the Coroner," David answered, his voice still rough. He looked across at Wright and received a nod. "You ... you want to organise a swap?"

"_No."_

The flush of anger that shot through him was intense. He stood up, leaning forward over the microphone. "His family don't deserve this! Where is he?"

Nelson remained silent.

The silence stretched and David just had to try again. With effort he managed to calm his voice even as his blood continued to seethe through his veins.

"Mr Nelson? Whatever you thought of Agent Eppes his family deserves to get him back," David demanded. "Tell us where ... Tell us where we can find him. We will give you your son, wherever or however you want. Mr Nelson?"

There was nothing but silence. David looked to Rachel but a wave of her hand indicated the cell was still active, the line still open.

"Mr Nelson!"

A new voice came on the line, it was weak but recognisable, _"David. David, I'm alive."_

"Don!" David had to brace himself on the table, the relief was so great. He wasn't the only one. "Don, we thought-" he cut himself off. "What happened? That much blood..."

"_I've been shot and stabbed. It's serious but they've patched me up. I'm okay. For now,"_ Don trailed off.

"What happened?"

"_We met Brad there. He, he came after me."_

"He shot you?"

"_Yes."_

David knew there was more, much more. "The other man-"

"_Doesn't matter, David,"_ Don interrupted. The captive agent fell silent before his voice returned, strong and clear. _"David, I killed Brad."_

"What!" David exclaimed in shock.

Once again he looked around the room, seeing the same thoughts in each agent's mind. How had the hostage got a weapon and killed the very man he was being held to protect? No one had an answer.

The blood suddenly drained from David's face as he realised what this call could mean.

"No, Mr Nelson! No!" David said sharply. "Whatever happened there, however that happened, no one else needs to die!"

The call abruptly cut off.

David's fist slammed into the table. "Rachel? Tell me we got a location!"

"Tower at Breezy Lane, Yucca Valley."

"Plot it, send the nearest police. Have them look for," David started to order, then waved his hand to end that thought. "Have them look for anything."

"David, they might not kill him," Colby said. "They've kept him alive until now, more than twelve hours after he killed Brad."

"They wanted him to confess, he's done that," David theorised.

"You've met Scott Nelson," Wright said. "Do you think him capable of keeping Eppes alive to then execute him?"

Unconsciously licking his lips he paced away then back as he considered. "Until now, I didn't think so. But if they were there that means he saw Don kill his son."

"And he hasn't killed him yet," Wright pointed out. "He saw Eppes shoot his son. If he was going to he would have shot Eppes then and there, not take him with them and treat his wounds."

One of the other agents stepped forward, a trained profiler. "Nelson has demonstrated a strong protective instinct towards his son. He took Agent Eppes to ensure his son's survival. To have seen his son killed in front of him, it could have easily driven him over the edge," Agent Robson said. "If he was going to kill Agent Eppes to avenge his son, he would have done it immediately. I have to agree with the boss, as Agent Eppes is still alive it seems less likely he will kill him now."

"So why continue to hold him? Why take him at all?" David argued. He wanted to believe them, but he couldn't see it. Nelson had let them think Don was already dead, perhaps to feel out how they'd take it. He'd then put Don on the line to make his confession. As he saw it there was only one logical step to follow. "You said this could have driven him over the edge, perhaps it has. We can't assume he is thinking clearly," he continued.

Robson thought on it for a moment before slowly nodding, "Unfortunately that is very likely, but I think the longer this goes on for the less likely they are to kill him."

.

* * *

.

"_No, Mr Nelson! No! Whatever happened there, however that happened, no one else needs to die!"_

Nelson's response was to disconnect the call.

Don held the older man's gaze a little longer before closing his eyes and laying back. Nelson started the car and they started on the long, bumpy drive back to the cabin. The hour or so getting here, wherever here was, had been hard on his injuries and Don could do nothing but try to brace himself for the ride back.

Paul had argued strongly against moving him but Nelson had not listened or cared. His right wrist had been roughly pulled free from Paul's careful bindings before being cuffed to his left for the move. Paul had argued against that too without any luck. Seemingly understanding it was a lost cause Paul had done his best to support Don out to the car and had got him settled as comfortably as possible across the back seat with a blanket and a pillow. Nelson had grudgingly delayed long enough for Paul to grab his kit and some more water before they left. After they'd finally stopped Paul had checked on Don's injuries and had given him more water as Nelson started the call. Given his condition he'd not been able to sit up to see where they were.

Don been ordered to remain silent until he would be allowed to speak. When the time came he'd understood what Nelson had wanted him to say. It had been hard and knowing the emotional knife's edge that Nelson was teetering on had made him fear he would be shot within David's hearing once he'd admitted killing Brad but Nelson had simply ended the call on David's plea.

As they travelled back Don suddenly thought he understood why Nelson had played the call initially as if he were already dead and why he was being treated so harshly. He was being punished.

People reacted differently to death and Don had seen all types of reactions having delivered far too many death messages. Some collapsed and became catatonic. Others yelled and screamed, calling him everything under the sun. He'd been assaulted and had even been forced to chase and catch others that had tried to flee from the news putting themselves in danger. Nelson was reacting in his own way to the death of his son, his focus directed at the man responsible.

Just how far Nelson was going to take things was the issue that concerned him the most. At the moment, despite Paul's earlier assurance that Nelson just needed time, he felt it was quite probably going to be all the way.

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

The remainder of the day and the next passed slowly. Don found it fortunate in a way that he was ill enough to spend most of the first one dozing following the exertion of the long drive to make the call. His injuries continued to be tended by Paul, the young man demonstrating he had impressive skills in his chosen field. The bullet and knife wounds remained clear of any obvious infection and aside from the lack of effective pain medication or blood transfusions Don was sure he could not have got better medical care at a hospital.

Brooding, Nelson spent most of his time staring at him with a dark expression. Whenever Don needed to move from the bed Nelson managed the handcuffs, ignoring Paul's constant assertions they were no longer necessary. At least he allowed Don the use of his left hand during his trips to the washroom. Nelson no longer checked Don's messages, taking the phone from Paul when the younger man had tried to maintain the earlier routine.

For his part Don only spoke when absolutely necessary and then only in hushed tones to Paul, Nelson's warning all too fresh in his mind. Despite being hyper-alert to Nelson's every move he tried to rest and recover from his injuries in the hope that Paul was right. By the end of the second day he felt better and Paul had removed the extra bandages and tape that kept his right arm bound to his side even if it was still semi restrained in a sling. Physically he was improved but emotionally he was struggling so that small freedom meant a lot. He knew the dark thoughts that were running through Nelson's mind and the decision he felt it more and more likely the man was working towards. Unwilling to risk tipping Nelson over the edge there was nothing he could do but wait.

It was early in the morning on the third day and he was sleeping lightly when he woke suddenly. He opened his eyes to see the older man standing over him, silently watching him. This was the first time Nelson had approached him other than to manage the handcuffs at his son's request and Don could not help the apprehension that flooded through him.

Paul, who had taken to sleeping in the other easy chair, also woke suddenly. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, "Dad?"

Nelson didn't react to the question; instead he pulled the cuff key from his pocket and undid the cuff locked to the bed frame. He stood back, clearly waiting.

Moving carefully to avoid aggravating his injuries but mostly to avoid in any way appearing threatening Don sat up before slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. After slipping on his shoes he lifted his wrists expecting to be re-cuffed in the assumption they were about to take another trip in the car but Nelson simply pointed to the door. At the clear command Don got himself up and started limping painfully to the door, stopping with his left hand on the handle. A glance back showed Nelson waiting close behind him, his expression blank and unreadable. Turning the handle he stepped out onto the porch, noting that the dawn was approaching. He hoped desperately that he was still misjudging the situation and they were actually going for another drive to make a phone call.

Using the handrail he managed to get himself down the stairs and started towards the car but angled away as Nelson suddenly came between it and him. He kept walking, moving now towards the east and the lightening sky. With deepening dread he realised he would not be seeing the day the dawn heralded. He had only taken a few more steps when a warm hand touched his bare shoulder and he stopped.

Finally Nelson spoke, "Go inside, Paul."

"Dad, you can't," Paul started, his voice coming from the direction of the cabin door.

"Go inside," Nelson repeated, firmer this time. "This is between me and Agent Eppes."

Don didn't move, didn't turn as he listened to the sound of Paul reluctantly returning inside the cabin and closing the door. He owed the younger man for his care but he found himself unable to give him his due. It was more important to him in what he considered to be his last moments to gaze on the lightening sky, to appreciate the beauty in the subtle tones of greys and purples, the faintest tinge of red on the horizon and the winking of the last few stars in his field of view. He struggled to get his breathing under control, to draw in deep draughts of the fresh and new morning air. He was clad only in boxers but it wasn't the temperature that made the tremor run through him as Nelson moved closer. He fought to show no outward reaction. Nelson had spent two full days deep in thought, there was nothing he could say or do to change the man's mind now that he'd obviously made his decision. All he could do was see this through with as much dignity as he could muster.

He couldn't help the flinch though as the hand touched his shoulder again, a push to indicate he should continue walking. He moved and this time the hand remained in place steering him as they went around the end of the cabin and a short distance into the brush before pulling back as they stopped. There was a long pause before there was a new gentle pressure. Another tremor went through him as he closed his eyes briefly. He needed a deep breath, needed to savour the cool air before he could ease himself down. As he settled on his knees he found it easy to block out the pain in his thigh as the muscle stretched and pulled apart the barely healing wounds, it no longer mattered.

Instead his focus returned to the sky, noting the reds were slowly gaining prominence even as the actual sunrise was still some time away. After an eternity during which the reds had turned to orange Nelson suddenly moved, unexpectedly coming around Don's left as if to stand in front of him. At the first glimpse of the man in his peripheral vision Don squeezed his eyes shut, hanging onto that last sight of the sky.

"Look at me," Nelson finally said.

Don refused to acknowledge the order.

"Agent."

"No," Don managed. He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to see what he could imagine was facing him. He fixed the last sight of the dawn into his memory and managed a few more words, "Let me go in peace."

"You killed my son," Nelson stated, his tone flat.

Don heard the lack of emotion but didn't react or respond.

"I want this. I can't think of anything but this," Nelson continued before falling silent again.

He wondered if the man was expecting him to interrupt, to perhaps present his argument again as to why he shouldn't pay for what he'd done. Or perhaps he was expected to beg. Even though the warning not to speak to Nelson was no longer relevant he stayed silent, focusing on the image in his mind so intently it was as if his eyes were still open to see the splendour.

"But what will this achieve? How will this bring my son back? How is this justice?" The emotion that had been lacking moments before was now there in spades.

At the unexpected words Don caught his breath even as he refused to hope.

"I knew what my son had become, I knew what might hap-," Nelson's words choked off before tumbling out in increasing speed. "I tried to save him. All this was to save him, to protect him. In the end, I brought you to him as you'd told me I would. I caused all of this. Everything that has happened between you and me and him has been my own doing!"

Don could not find it in him to counter Nelson's words. It was all true. He tried to grasp at the soothing image in his mind but it was falling apart and he felt the loss of it all too strongly, unwilling to open his eyes as the alternative would be worse.

"My son is dead. You killed him. I want to kill you, I need to kill you but how can I? I will be as you said, a murderer. My son was a murderer. Paul was right, you had no choice, it was him or you and I forced the confrontation. You pulled the trigger but I am just as responsible. I am going to have to live with that for the rest of my life. I can't also live with this. Look at me, Don Eppes! Look at me and tell me you are sorry, as sorry as I am for saving your life in that plane wreck."

Reacting to the use of his name his eyes opened before his thoughts caught up. Nelson was standing in front of him but he was surprised to see no weapon in the man's hands. Instead they were hugged tightly around his chest in a desperate attempt to give himself some comfort.

"I am sorry," Don admitted, finding his voice. But even under the threat of execution he could not leave it at that. He dug into a reserve of strength and continued on, his words strong and clear, "I did not want that, but I had no choice. He gave me no choice. Do whatever you must but that will not change."

Nelson stared down at the kneeling agent for a long time. "No, nothing will change. I -. Paul?"

"Dad."

Don couldn't help but turn as Nelson started away. He saw Paul standing a short distance away, between them and the side of the cabin. It was impossible to know how long he'd been there, how much he'd heard but it didn't matter. Nelson swept Paul into a bear hug and suddenly his shoulders shook violently as he finally broke down and sobbed. Don had to look away and lost himself in the colours of the dawn, the oranges turning golden at the horizon as the red blush climbed overhead.

A hand touched his shoulder and a chill like a deluge of ice water sluiced through him. He shuddered, snapping his eyes closed.

"Hey! No. It's alright, it's just me."

His head jerked up at the young voice to find it was Paul beside him.

"Come on, let's get you back inside."

The younger man helped him up, lifting slowly and gently as Don struggled to get his feet under him. His injured leg gave way but with Pau's support he was able to hobble back around to the front of the cabin. But the time they'd managed the stairs he was sweating with the effort, everything focused on one step at a time. Paul helped him not to the bed but to the table and got him seated. After a long moment he jerked his head up and searched the room but there was no sign of Nelson. His head dropped as he slid back into a haze, deep in contemplation of the worn surface of the table.

"Here, I made coffee," Paul said placing a steaming cup on the table in Don's easy reach. "I need to look at you but I think you need this more."

Still in a haze Don reached for the cup but the dangling cuff around his left wrist skittered across the table and the shakes suddenly hit hard.

"Hey," Paul soothed. He abandoned his own coffee and reached out his hand to cover the agent's. "You are okay, it will be okay."

Uncomfortable at the contact Don jerked his hand away and shoved it under the table as he found the sight of the cuffs disturbing. The shakes eased slightly and he recognised them as the reaction to his near miss even as that knowledge didn't help any. He felt a hot flush of anger and spat out, "Why do you care?"

"I lost my brother, I nearly lost my father. You helped bring him back."

Unable to follow that logic Don blinked.

"You didn't fight him, you didn't push him. That forced him to work it through, to come back to himself."

Don could only shake his head. He'd spent the last two days helplessly waiting under the imminent threat of death knowing that his slightest word could make Nelson snap. The shakes increased again and he needed to move, to pace, but he was barely able to sit in the chair. He could only remain seated even as his right knee jiggled uncontrollably under the table.

Paul rose, seeing the agitation and took back the untouched cup he'd offered. "I think you need some tea."

The younger man returned to the kitchen, busying himself at the stove heating water again. Don tuned him out as he tried to settle himself. Shutting his eyes he returned to the image of the dawn and slowly the shakes eased. He concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly, working through mental exercises Bradford had shown him to settle his roiling emotions.

He had no idea how long it had been but when he opened his eyes he saw Paul was waiting silently in the seat opposite drinking from a mug. Lowering his gaze Don saw a cup of tea sitting on the table in front of him. His hand still trembled but he was able to keep the cuff from clattering as he lifted the cup. He managed a sip finding it tepid, black and far too sweet. He pulled a face and went to put it down but Paul held up a hand.

"Drink it, you need it."

"Why are you looking after me? He needs you," Don stopped himself in surprise at his own concern. Nelson had almost killed him, had forced him outside with clear intent and...

"He needs to rest," Paul explained. He cocked his head, a slight smile crossing his face, "You are so alike, you know."

"No."

"Yes, you care for others before yourself. Even though he wanted you-" Paul's voice broke as he remembered all too well what his father wanted for the agent. "He let me look after you, let me fix you up. You knew that was what he needed, a reminder of who he was."

Don didn't believe it but it didn't matter. He finished the now cold tea before looking up again, "What now?"

The younger man's confidence evaporated and now he looked down, "We need to wait for Dad."

"You could let me go," Don said before he realised it. His back was to the door but it felt like a magnet pulling at him.

Paul glanced to the door and the freedom it represented. "No, I can't. Not yet, but we will. Dad will."

That was something else that Don didn't think he could believe, much as he wanted to. His head dropped as he contemplated the couple of escaped tea leaves in the bottom of his cup. There was no escape for him any time soon that he could see. He could only hope that Nelson finally breaking down meant he was over his murderous mind-set and would begin to think clearly again.

"Come on," Paul said gently. "I need to check your leg."

Not wanting to accept help he made it to his feet and across to the bed mostly under his own power. His leg had stiffened earlier but getting to the bed from the table had been easier than walking back into the cabin had been. He needed a hand to ease down which Paul provided without comment. The younger man worked at his leg and Don saw that the partly healed wounds had pulled apart and had bled but it perhaps wasn't as bad as he was expecting. Working quickly Paul got them redressed and bandaged. He was given some water after refusing anything else, the way his stomach was feeling he knew that or sweet tea was all he could tolerate. Finishing the tumbler he lay back and closed his eyes, concentrating once again on his breathing as he tried to relax.

There was movement beside him and he jerked back to awareness, realising he'd fallen asleep. It wasn't Nelson as he'd feared but Paul bending over his leg to check the bandage. Seeing he'd woken Paul stepped back.

"How are you feeling?"

Far from good but, "Better."

Paul looked at him a moment longer as if unsure which question the agent had answered, "Do you feel up to some food? Or juice?"

"Juice maybe," Don finally decided.

As Paul went to get the drink Don got himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He gave it a moment before standing, he was pushing it but the blue sky he could see through the window was drawing him. He limped over to the window and gazed out on the day seeing it was well towards midday, confirmed by a look at his watch. He was disappointed that he'd spent so much time asleep to miss so much of the day he'd thought he'd never see. Paul appeared at his side and he took the offered tumbler, sipping at the juice without tasting it.

The day called at him and he remembered the chairs on the porch where he could perhaps sit for a while, "Can I go outside?"

Paul seemed to understand the request for what it was, a need to be outside and hesitated but then he glanced back at the doorway to the rear of the cabin and shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, but if he came out and couldn't find you, I'm not sure what he might do."

Don closed his eyes for a moment in disappointment as it had only been a small thing he'd wanted. But, there was something else he wanted, something that had been promised. He opened his eyes and turned to Paul, "Can I have my phone?"

"I don't think-" Paul started.

"I have a brother. I have a father," Don interrupted bluntly even though it reminded the younger man that he no longer had his brother. "It's been two days since that last call to David and they will think I am dead by now. You say I saved your father, let me have that in return. Let me speak to my father."

Paul looked once again to the open doorway as if that would give him guidance. He looked back at the agent and made his decision. He went to the doorway and after a final glance back ducked through, returning quickly with the cell. He was surprised to see the agent hadn't moved.

Paul turned the cell on and muffled the message beeps before holding it out. "You have to be quick. I won't let you stay on long enough to trace us."

Don nodded. He would take it, the call to his family more important to him right then than escaping or being located.

With Paul hovering uncomfortably close Don dialled his father's cell

"_Don?"_

Don's throat suddenly seized as an unexpectedly intense wave of emotion rolled over him on hearing his father's voice. Tears pricked at his eyes as he found himself struggling once again to control himself.

"_Don, is that you?"_

.


	12. Chapter 12

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

The sound of his phone ringing startled Alan. As he reached for it he found Charlie looking over at him questioningly.

They were in one of the conference rooms in the Field Office, after the discovery of Brad's body there was no longer the concern that they were at risk and they'd been able to convince David to bring them in. Charlie had been working at his laptop, the room's projector showing on the screen his efforts to improve his algorithms that were already being used to try to track Don's cell from the calls to date. Like the FBI Charlie had long come to the conclusion the calls were being made from deliberately selected places designed to confuse their efforts to track them back to where Don was actually being held. Charlie was working on it nonetheless, mathematically weighting each point. Alan knew it was an extremely complex problem given the size of the area they were searching as well as the all too difficult to predict variable of human behaviour.

The agent assigned to them to see to their needs, a Mark someone-or-other, also looked at him alertly. Alan knew the agent had been assigned as much to ensure they didn't access the incident room across the floor, where they were most definitely not permitted, as to help them but he had been most solicitous. They'd been receiving constant briefings personally from David as well as a daily visit from the Assistant Director in Charge.

Still confused as to who could be calling him he finally got his phone free from his pocket and suddenly sat bolt upright as he saw the caller ID. He quickly answered the call.

"Don?" At his incredulous query Charlie and the agent both rushed over. He put the phone on speaker and after a moment of silence he asked hesitantly, "Don, is that you?"

There was a long expelled breath then a less than steady voice,_ "Dad."_

Charlie leant in and demanded, "Don! Hey, Don, are you -"

At the same time the agent shot out of the room at a dead run, heading to the incident room.

"_Charlie,"_ Don interrupted his brother, his voice faint and hard to make out on the poor line. _"I'm, I'm here."_

The Eppes men looked to each other, not missing that Don had not said he was fine. They hardly would have believed it, they had been briefed that he'd been injured but Don always said he was fine. Alan waved his hand to silence his youngest. "Don, are you okay?"

"_I needed to hear your voice."_

"Donny, I'm here. We're both here, anything you need, please just talk to us."

"_I can't, I just needed to hear you. I'm sorry," _he said.Choked with emotion Don's voice lacked its normal snap.

"No! You have nothing to apologise for, nothing! Don please, tell us what is happening," Alan demanded in alarm. He'd never heard his oldest like this before. His fatherly instincts rose up, "Is he there? Let me talk to him."

"_I have to go."_

"Don, stay alive! Whatever you have to do, do it," Charlie said quickly.

"Come back to us, Donny. Please," Alan pleaded.

"_Dad, Charlie-"_ Don started but there was a muffled sound and the phone died.

David and Colby burst into the room but stopped as they saw Alan and Charlie huddled around the now silent phone. The older man suddenly sat up, wiping at an eye and noticed the agents.

"Mr Eppes?" David prodded gently.

"It was him," Alan managed as Charlie put his hand over his. "He wouldn't say he was fine. He always says he's fine."

"Did he say anything else? Anything we can use to find him?"

Charlie gave his father's hand a squeeze and looked up at David. "No, all he said was he needed to hear us. Oh, no. You don't think-"

"No!" David jumped in seeing Alan's head came up in alarm as he understood Charlie's conclusion. He couldn't dance around this so was blunt, "No, the longer they keep him alive the less likely they are to kill him. This is a good sign."

"But what if it was his last request?" Alan asked, his voice strained with the effort of getting the words out.

Charlie nodded in agreement, equally stricken by the same thought.

"No. Mr Eppes, Charlie, no. Not after all this time," he hesitated, glancing at Colby for support. David well understood their fear. They may not have had all the information to fully understand the situation but they did know that Brad was dead and that Don was hurt. The two long days with no contact, with Don's cell phone not even turned on to retrieve messages had been bad for all of them and he'd struggled to keep their hopes alive as his own faded to almost nothing. It was time now to come clean with some information and whilst it was far from comforting it would explain why hearing from Don now was a very good sign. "When we spoke to him last he told us he was seriously injured but that he'd received care. We think they quite probably saved his life. They wouldn't help him to then do that."

Both Eppes men looked at the two agents sharply.

"You never said it was that bad," Charlie accused.

"No," David acknowledged. He didn't try to explain why they'd withheld the severity of Don's injuries.

"What else haven't you told us?" Charlie demanded.

David tried to keep the guilt from his face and resisted the urge to again seek support from Colby. There was no way he was going to tell them of Don's confession as that would destroy their already fragile hope. "Charlie, you know how this works. There are things I can't tell you."

"They've been looking after him," Alan suddenly said, having missed the last exchange whilst deep in thought. He sounded the theory out. "They let him call us."

"Yes, it is a positive sign," David insisted, believing it. "Look, I have to report this. When you're up to it can you give Mark everything that was said in as much detail as you can remember?"

The agent took a slight step forward at his name but didn't press, favouring the family under his care with a sympathetic smile.

Charlie levelled a look at David that indicated quite clearly how he felt about information being withheld from them. After a long moment he glanced back at his father and nodded. "Give us a minute."

"Thank-you," David said, relieved Charlie wasn't going to push it. "I'm going to try calling them again." He'd lost count of the messages he'd left since that last call. He waved at both Colby and Mark to follow him out of the room.

"Get as much as you can and get it to me straight away, okay?" David instructed.

"I will," Mark answered. He let himself back into the room but stayed close to the door so as not to intrude.

David looked at Don's family a moment longer through the glass. The guilt returned, "We were right not to tell them, weren't we?"

"Absolutely."

.

.

"_Come back to us, Donny. Please,"_ Alan's voice choked off on the plea.

Don started to respond even as he didn't know what to say but Paul reached for the phone and pulled it away, disconnecting the call.

Absurdly grateful for the interruption Don turned away, shutting Paul out of his awareness. He was still drowning in the feelings that had burst on him on hearing their voices and he fought to push everything back down. Closing his eyes to see the image of the dawn he'd fixed in his mind earlier he was able to regain control. He opened his eyes and found himself once again staring out the window at the dry, stunted brush under a brilliant blue sky thinking it one of the more beautiful sights he had ever seen.

He wasn't sure how long he was still, but suddenly it was as if a switch had been thrown. His head jerked up, instantly alert.

Agent Eppes turned his head carefully and surveyed the room, searching for weapons, assessing exits and threats. Paul was standing a short distance away, just now sliding the cell phone into a pocket with the room otherwise empty. Of Nelson there was no sign and he knew the door that led outside was unlocked. The location of the key to the car parked outside was unknown but lack of access to the vehicle was not a major concern. Of most import was the fact he was unrestrained, the handcuffs still dangled from his left wrist but for the first time in days he was not shackled to a bed, he was free to move about.

Without forming any conscious intent he took a step bringing him within range of an unsuspecting Paul, the young man half turned away. Moving quickly the agent brought up his left hand, need and urgency outweighing the unfamiliarity of the strike with his off hand. The blow would incapacitate the other man allowing him the opportunity to take possession of a weapon, regain his cell and make his bid for freedom.

An instant later he twisted and pulled his blow, stumbling off balance. Paul, who had moments before been his target, reacted, grabbing at his right arm in reflex to steady him.

Gasping at the pain in his chest and shoulder Don staggered then recovered, freezing in place as he stared across the room.

"You shouldn't be up," Nelson said.

Don felt a rush of relief as he didn't see anything in the older man's face to indicate he'd seen what the agent had been attempting. Nelson had only just made the decision to spare the man that had killed his oldest son, if he'd seen that same man attacking his surviving son...

"Here, I need to check your shoulder," Paul said as he felt the agent suddenly tremble, misinterpreting the reaction.

"I'm fine," Don said on autopilot, trying to fight the shakes that had returned at the latest near miss. He'd not thought it through, had made his move without considering whether he had any real chance of success. There hadn't been, even if he'd put Paul down, recovered his phone and taken the younger man's weapon he would not have made it far in his condition. He would have been caught in minutes, the outcome after that no mystery.

Nelson moved closer, "Let him look."

Rightly or wrongly interpreting the move as a threat he numbly let himself be led back to the bed and helped to sit on the edge. Nelson moved even closer and Don found himself automatically holding out his left arm, expecting the cuff to be relocked around the bed frame.

Nelson looked at the proffered wrist and then to the agent for a long moment. Reaching into a pocket he pulled out the key and fitted it into the lock on the cuff around the agent's wrist, opening the band. Nelson then moved well away before slowly, thoughtfully, placing the restraints on the table.

Surprised Don watched on, barely feeling Paul working at his shoulder and chest. As soon as his right arm was free again after Paul's ministrations he pulled it from the sling and rubbed at his left wrist. The cuff hadn't been removed in days and he couldn't help but revel in the feeling even as the chafed and bruised skin stung.

"Does that hurt?" Paul suddenly asked, reaching out a hand.

Don jerked his wrist out of Paul's reach, turning protectively away. "It's fine," he snapped, irrationally angry at the younger man's attempt to help.

Paul instantly backed off, packing away the depleted first aid kit and standing. He looked between his father and the agent a moment before crossing the room to the doorway to the bunk room. "I'll just, ah. I'll be in here."

Nelson watched him go before turning to the waiting agent. He stepped away from the table, waving a hand in invitation, "Please."

Surprised at the courtesy after the last few days it took him a moment to move to the offered seat. It didn't escape his notice that it was the side away from the door even as it faced it. He squashed that disappointment in favour of the change in Nelson's attitude towards him. There was a desperate need to regain their lost rapport. He sat and given the change in the way Nelson was treating him he risked speaking, "Thank-you."

Nelson nodded shortly, leaning with his hands against the back of the opposite seat. "Agent, I -. My behaviour, I-" he stopped, head dropping as he struggled with what he was trying to say.

"I understand," Don said before snapping his mouth shut. It had been automatic, an unthinking response to someone else's distress. The last thing he felt like doing was to offer comfort to the man.

Nelson's head jerked up in surprise. "What I just did to you-"

Now it was Don's turn to look down, his attention focused on the handcuffs as he unconsciously rubbed again at his left wrist. The reminder of what Nelson had done was hard.

"I was going to do it," Nelson finally stated, his voice soft.

Unable to face Nelson Don closed his eyes and again saw the pre-dawn sky. His answer was little more than a whisper, "I know."

"I watched you," the other man continued quietly.

Remaining with his head bowed he was dragged back to that eternity kneeling on the dusty ground, watching the sky brighten, the colours changing and all the while expecting at any moment... He couldn't complete the thought even as Nelson continued, forcing him to relive it.

"Seeing you kneeling there, waiting, I realised what you must have been feeling and I knew it was wrong. I can't forgive you for what you've done but I should never have done that to you."

There was nothing Don could say to that. He was emotionally wrung out and knew he would never forget, or forgive, what Nelson had done. The apology meant nothing, it wasn't over, he was still being held and the other man could still change his mind. Suddenly he remembered his father's voice on the phone, his last instruction. A slow burn of anger spread through him and his head came up. Shoving his chair back he stood, ignoring the pain in his leg as he fixed Nelson in a hard stare.

"This is done. Release me, or kill me," he demanded firmly. Despite his anger he had to stop before he could continue, that was no abstract concept. With a sweep of his hand he knocked the cuffs from the table to land with a heavy clatter on the wooden floor. "I'm not doing this any more."

Paul dashed out at the sound but stopped short as he saw the two men standing silently staring across the table at each other.

Nelson looked to his son before speaking. "We'll let you go. Tonight, when it is safe for us."

Don shook his head, "Now. Take your stuff and drive away. Leave me my cell. By the time they get here you'll be long gone."

"Tonight," Nelson repeated firmly.

Forestalling any further argument Don might have tried Nelson bent and picked up the cuffs, holding them in his hand and looking steadily at him. The look and action was a clear message, push it and he'd be wearing them once again. After four days Don knew he would do everything he could to avoid that. He might have made it clear he considered his captivity should be over, the reasons for it now gone, but that decision was not his to make. Nelson continued to hold all the power and whilst Don could take whatever stance he wanted it still came down to what the other man allowed him.

Forced to let it go Don took a step back, hating his surrender but hating the alternative even more. "Fine."

Nelson held his gaze a little longer before once again putting the restraints on the table where they would be in full view, a less than subtle reminder in case he needed it. The other's apology and change in attitude towards him only went so far.

Angry and frustrated Don made his unsteady way over to the easy chair Paul had been sitting in and tried to make himself comfortable. He ended up twisted slightly to avoid putting pressure on his shoulder and had his leg propped up on the small table but it was better than the alternative, the bed. It may have been the more sensible option but it reminded him all too much of his true status.

.


	13. Chapter 13

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Paul approached him with food for a late lunch but Don found he had no appetite. He knew he should try to eat regardless but as he considered it he decided he simply did not want to. He waved the younger man off with a glare.

"Agent?" Nelson queried when Paul put the food back on table.

"What?" Don snapped. The emotional haze from the morning and the distress he had felt after speaking with his family were long gone, replaced by a steadily simmering anger at Nelson's refusal to let him go immediately.

"My son thinks you should eat," Nelson said. His tone suggested he was somewhat ambivalent about it.

"Is that an order?"

At that Nelson bristled, "Should it be?"

"Unless you're making it one, leave me the hell alone."

The remainder of the day dragged interminably and he spent most of it in the chair. He got up at one point intending to look out the window only to find Nelson instantly on the alert. Stubbornly he went to the window, silently daring Nelson to stop him but the older man simply watched him closely. He stood there for as long as he could but the pain in his leg soon drove him back to the chair.

As the afternoon drew on Nelson and Paul took turns moving around, packing up their personal possessions while the other kept watch. Some items were moved out to the car whilst others, including Don's wallet, ID and Glock were set aside on the table. He eyed his weapon longingly even though he knew it was unloaded and useless. Nelson saw where he was looking and put the items into a shopping bag and then out to the car. It looked as though they were getting ready to leave and his anger was tempered with anticipation but as the flow of items to the car stopped and Paul started heating a kettle full of water he realised they were waiting for dark.

The smell of the coffee was too alluring to refuse and he took the offered cup. Another long hour dragged by during which Paul once again checked his injuries. He ignored the attention as best he could and Paul seemed satisfied to leave the dressings alone.

As the sun set noodles were offered for dinner and his stomach growled. Taking the bowl and fork from the table he retreated to the chair, ignoring the offer from the younger man to sit with them. Don knew he should have accepted the invitation, no matter how uncomfortable it might be to eat with Nelson, but he was in no mood to play the game.

Paul finished first and approached him, holding out some clothes that had been left on the end of the bench earlier. After almost three days spent wearing only boxers Don accepted the sweatpants and t-shirt gratefully. After being escorted to the washroom he found dressing was a challenge but he finally managed and returned to the main cabin area to stand near the window. He could see nothing outside in the darkness but he was too restless to sit. Paul was off making what looked like a last sweep of the cabin when he saw Nelson pick up the cuffs from the table in the window's reflection. Suddenly apprehensive Don turned as Nelson approached.

The cuffs were held up, Nelson's meaning all too clear.

"No."

"Agent," Nelson said in a warning tone.

Don took a step away. A new emotion vied with his anger for prominence and he took another half step back all too conscious of the corner behind him and the fact he had nowhere to go. He looked directly into Nelson's eyes, "I'll give you my word. If you're going to let me go you don't need those."

"I'm going to let you go," Nelson confirmed. "But we need to be clear when we do. Until then," he ended by holding out the cuffs clearly expecting the agent to take them.

"No."

Nelson raised his voice, "Paul?"

"Dad?" Paul queried as he approached. He saw the cuffs and the agent's tense stance and understood. "I don't think they're necessary, Dad."

"I do," Nelson stated firmly. "We're not going to jail for this. Until it's safe for us to let him go we're not giving him a chance to escape. Give me a hand."

Don saw the apologetic look before Paul moved forward. He may have been on Don's side as far as the cuffs no longer being needed but he was going to do as his father told him. As they approached Don couldn't help the next step back that made him bump into the wall. He was trapped and in his current condition a physical confrontation would only cause him pain he didn't need. His hands clenched into fists but he forced them open, lifting them up in surrender. He tore off the sling supporting his right arm and shoved his wrists out in front of him, the pain in his shoulder welcome punishment for his capitulation. Unable to watch he turned his head away and didn't move as Nelson stepped in and fitted the restraints.

A hand touched his elbow and he turned back to see Nelson point towards the door. He felt a new surge of fear as he remembered the gesture from the morning but he quashed it, taking refuge in anger. "Are you sure you don't need to pull your gun on me too?"

Nelson's own temper flared and his hand moved towards his weapon, "If you want me to I will."

"Dad, let it go," Paul intervened, moving in to take the agent's left arm forcing his father to move aside. After a moment his father left, taking a final bag and going outside. Paul released the agent's arm and faced him, "Don't push him."

Don let out a long breath before raising his hands slightly, "I know, I'm sorry." The strength of his reaction had surprised him. That the cuffs been used again he should have expected, they had not been packed away with everything else and he had known what that meant even if he'd been trying not to consider it.

"You don't need to be sorry," Paul said. "I understand. But you do need to let it go too."

He knew Paul was right, the young man showing surprising empathy towards him, but it was hard to keep accepting what was happening to him. There was no option however so he took some deep breaths, using the moment that Paul allowed him before he started for the door. As he'd told himself earlier, with or without the cuffs, his position was still the same. At least it was looking very much like he only needed to put up with it a little longer.

.

.

David pulled to a stop at the red signal and waited.

He'd been instructed to go home; another night spent at the Field Office wasn't going to find Don any quicker whereas a good night's sleep to return in the morning with a clear head might. At least that was the argument Wright had used, David certainly didn't feel that way. Whilst the agents left behind were more than capable of managing the search and following leads he felt he needed to be there. Charlie and Alan were back at the hotel room for the night but he owed them to keep working to bring Don home. He'd tried objecting on the grounds he needed to stay to have his cell recorded in the event that Don or more likely Nelson called him but the ADIC had Rachel install an app to record his calls. Virtually escorted out David had left and had actually started to drive home before he found himself taking an onramp up to the 10 to head east.

He was tired but couldn't leave it. He had taken the exit when he reached Redlands and had pulled up outside the business on East Colton where Don had killed Brad and, he suspected, the second man. The crime scene had long been returned to the owners but he'd walked down the driveway and stood under the glare of the spotlight trying to imagine what had happened. Returning to his car he'd got down to the task he'd set himself.

Good work by teams of agents had slowly pieced together evidence that had led them to commencing a search for a blue car in the Los Angeles area below the hills that led up to the San Bernardino State Forest. The tyre prints left at the shooting scene had identified three possible models then exhaustive inquiries and countless hours of scanning CCTV footage had lead them to the colour. Their first break had come after inquiries had lead them to a convenience store about a mile away where some odd purchases had been made around the time of the shooting. With no CCTV system in the store itself they'd spoken to the clerk who remembered a young man running in to buy boxes of tissues, sticky tape, scissors, towels, mouthwash, fruit juice and water, an unusual combination of goods. The young man had also apparently had odd reddish stains on his hands and shirt that they strongly suspected was blood. The clerk wasn't able to identify Paul Nelson from an old mug shot but it seemed likely he had been the customer with the FBI investigators having long since concluded he was helping his father. Footage from a gas station just up the road had shown a blue sedan of the right make passing by a few minutes later. They'd widened their search after that, viewing footage from Rialto and Yucaipa to catch teasing glimpses of a blue car in the right place at the right time. They had no luck with the same technique at Yucca Valley, Lucerne Valley or Barstow and the LEOs in the towns in the state forest had reported no matching unknown vehicles in their areas but it was a lead and they were going to run it out.

The problem was the sheer number of cars that fell within the model/colour range. Charlie had done his best but they were back to basic legwork for the rest. They'd done it before when they'd gathered DNA from every man in a given area when chasing a rapist during the first case he'd worked under Don. They could do it again. Every car that matched was to be stopped and checked. The more they could cross off their list the further they could potentially narrow their search. In the morning they would start sending resources into the San Bernardino State Forest. Despite the locals being alerted to look for the car the FBI were going to work their way through the towns from Crestline and Running Springs towards Big Bear Lake and beyond. Other agents were going to start at Barstow and work their way back.

It was labour intensive and whilst the LAPD were helping where they could it was frustrating going. Before he went home he was going to spend a few hours patrolling, if he could reduce the numbers of suspect cars by a few it would help him sleep better. In the first hour he had cleared four cars, working his way from Mentone to Highland.

The light turned green and he accelerated having just seen a blue car of the right type turn onto the street ahead of him. They road they were on ran roughly parallel to the 210. He closed up the distance until he could see the rear plate, called it in and dropped back to tail the vehicle as he waited for the check to come back. As he waited he noted that the vehicle contained three people, at his best guess all male.

Control provided the registered owner's details and address which didn't raise any mental flags with David. The male operator finished with, _"No wants or warrants."_

"Show me going off with that vehicle at East Highland Avenue, passing Del Rosa Avenue, inbound. Three heads," David reported. He activated his lights and the car immediately pulled right, off the road and into a large vacant parking lot.

Despite the general illumination provided by the pole mounted lights in the lot he grabbed his flashlight and approached the car, bending slightly to shine his light into the backseat as he passed. He froze then made a grab for his gun but froze again. The rear window wound down.

"Agent Sinclair."

"Mr Nelson," David said stiffly. He didn't dare move as his flashlight had shown that the man's weapon was pointed towards Don. He could see Don was looking back at him but the relief he felt at finding his friend and boss had to take a back seat for now.

"Paul will take your gun," Nelson said calmly.

David took a long step back to make room and turned slightly as the youngest Nelson climbed out of the driver's seat. He slowly moved his hands away from his body and then held still as Paul disarmed him. Now that he was less likely to be considered a threat David moved a little closer and bent again to better see into the back seat, careful not to shine his flashlight in Nelson's face. He could see now that Don was handcuffed and dressed in clothes that were too big for him. There were no signs of the injuries he'd reported as they would be under his clothes but even in the light of the flashlight and the wash from the widely spaced lights in the lot he could see Don looked pale with dark circles under his eyes. Combined with a few days' growth of beard his boss didn't look the best.

"Don?"

"I'm fine, David," Don answered. "Nelson, let him go."

"Did you call it in?" Nelson demanded, ignoring his hostage.

"The stop?" David queried. At the nod he considered lying before answered truthfully, "Yes."

"Call them, tell them you're back on and clear," Nelson instructed.

David made the call, switching his cell to speaker at the additional instruction. When he finished he handed the cell to Paul and as expected it was switched off.

"Alright Agent Sinclair, give your keys to my son. You will drive us. Paul will follow in your car."

"Nelson, don't. You have me, you don't need him," Don argued.

"Leave him here with my car," David jumped in with a counteroffer. Don could rest safely and use the radio to summon help. "I'll drive you, wherever you want to go."

"No. Get in," Nelson ordered.

David climbed in, placing his hands on top of the steering wheel and held still after he'd closed the door. He met the other man's eyes in the mirror before Nelson turned to Don.

"We're letting you go but only when it is safe for us, remember?"

"It's safe now," Don said.

"We need more time to be away clear," Nelson said. "A little longer Agent, then you'll both go free."

David shifted his attention as Paul held his hand through the open window. "The keys are still in it," David told him.

Paul took a step then stopped and looked into the back as if he were going to argue with his father but continued on to David's car without a word. Watching in the wing mirror he saw the interior light come on briefly before the flashing emergency lights went dark.

"Let's go, Agent Sinclair," Nelson ordered.

"Where?" David asked as he started the engine.

"I'll tell you when to turn."

David drove for about half an hour, turning first south on the 215 before he was directed off the 91. Nelson allowed him to choose the streets they took as long as he continued along the same general direction of the main road towards Corona. As they got closer he was instructed to find somewhere quiet. He didn't know Corona that well but he recalled there was a large concentration of shops and businesses near the highway that ran along the western side of the area. After a bit of hit and miss he finally pulled into one of the smaller parking lots and followed Nelson's directions around the rear of one of the buildings to a loading dock area. Given the hour there was no one about. He turned the car so it was pointing back the way they had come and stopped. Paul pulled up a few metres away.

"You can get out now," Nelson allowed.

David climbed out and backed away as Nelson also got out of the car. At the man's nod he moved around the other side of the vehicle and pulled open Don's door, helping him to his feet. He saw Don was favouring his left leg and went to take his arm in support but Don pulled away, standing by himself.

"Can I take his cuffs off?" David asked Nelson who had followed him around the car.

Nelson seemed to hesitate before he dug into his pocket with his spare hand and tossed over the key.

Don held out his wrists and David worked quickly to free him.

"We done?" Don demanded as David shoved the cuffs into his pocket.

Nelson jerked his gun hand towards his son, "Wait over there, I want to speak to Agent Sinclair a moment."

Seeing no point in arguing Don moved away towards David's car and the younger Nelson.

David didn't watch but turned instead to see Nelson standing close. He took a guess at what the older man wanted, "Your son?"

"I want him returned to Albuquerque, to the Coroner there," Nelson instructed. "I'll make arrangements for the rest."

"I can do that. Did you want me to make the call now?" David asked, wondering if this was a condition of their release.

Nelson shook his head. "You can do it later. I'll take your word."

"I'll get it done," David promised.

"I can't even go to his funeral," Nelson suddenly said.

Not sure if he was meant to comment David initially held his tongue until he saw the intensity of the look the man was directing at Don. "Mr Nelson, I'm sure-"

"Enough, Agent Sinclair," Nelson snapped in sudden anger. "He's told me. I don't need to hear it from you. What's done is done. Over there, now."

At the insistent motion of the gun David moved to stand next to Don. When he turned he was surprised to see Nelson digging in the trunk of his car. Casting a quick glance sideways he saw Paul standing nearby with no weapon in evidence. He considered making a move but changed his mind, they were about to be released, starting something now would very likely end badly.

Nelson dragged out a bag and brought it over, dumping it on the ground in front of Don.

"Don Eppes."

David held his breath at the tone, wondering what the older man was about to do. Seeing the way Nelson flexed his hand on his gun as he held it steadily pointed at Don he started to take a step but a touch to his arm from Paul stopped him.

Don looked up from his automatic glance downwards where he had recognised the shopping bag as the one that contained his wallet, ID and Glock.

"Scott Nelson."

"I don't ever want to see you again," Nelson said. He lifted his gun slightly, "If I do, I'll use this."

Don nodded, understanding. If they were to meet again it could well be under conditions where Don was trying to arrest him. Nelson may not be able to execute him in cold blood for killing his son but in an arrest situation any barriers he might have had to not shoot him would be gone. Don was going to wholeheartedly support the manhunt for Nelson but would not be taking part in it himself. Regardless of whether it was in court or on the street if he never laid eyes on Nelson again it would be too soon for him. He looked away.

Nelson walked back to their car, climbed into the driver's seat and waited.

Don stood still as Paul gave David back his phone and unloaded weapon. The younger man looked across to him as if he were going to say something but instead started to turn away. Don took a step and the younger man stopped. He regarded Paul for a moment, thinking on how his promising career as an EMT was over because he'd followed his father. He let the thought go. Paul had made his own choice. He started to offer his hand but drew it back, speaking instead, "Thank-you."

Paul looked surprised before shaking his head, "No, Agent. You owe me nothing. I know you won't accept this but I'm sorry. Dad would be too if he could think this through properly. If we'd left well enough alone much of this may never have happened. I wish things had been different," he trailed off, glancing back at his waiting father.

"So do I, but I do owe you," Don insisted. "You saved my life when it would have been easier to let me die."

"I couldn't let that happen," Paul said, accepting the thanks this time. He took a few steps away before turning and making a request, "Give us a few minutes before you call in."

.


	14. Chapter 14

**Numb3rs: Choices**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

It wasn't until he woke up in recovery that Don finally saw his father and brother. His memory was more than a little patchy due to the drugs but every moment he did remember he was simply hanging on to one or the other's hands, their reassuring company what he needed more than anything else. At some point he was moved to a private room and he spent more time awake, finally able to tell them some of what had happened to him.

They were in turns shocked and horrified even though he'd left out the worst moments.

"You shot Brad?" Charlie had demanded incredulously when he got to that part.

"And the man he was with," Don confirmed.

"And they knew that?" Alan asked.

"The FBI? Yes, I told David during the call the next morning," Don explained. He understood why they were upset as he figured out what must have happened. He'd obviously not had any part in David withholding such information but he fully supported him for doing so. "David did the right thing in not telling you that."

"No, he didn't," Alan said angrily. He continued in an unknowing echo of something Nelson had said, "You are my son, I had the right to know what was happening to you."

"He also never told us how badly hurt you were, not until you called us yesterday," Charlie added.

"Good," Don said firmly. They both shot him a less than pleased look. "What if he had told you? You would have spent those days convinced I was dead. You know I'm right just as you know he was right not to tell you. Look, I'm here now, it doesn't matter."

They were both unconvinced but encouraged him to continue his tale, which he did with a glaring omission. He simply couldn't talk about it yet.

His doctor saw him a little later in the morning and ran down what they'd done in the late night surgery. X-rays had shown some bullet fragments in his shoulder that Paul's rough efforts had missed. They were quickly removed and the doctor had then turned her attention to his other injuries.

"Arteries in both your chest and leg had been damaged which would have made those wounds bleed quite badly."

Don nodded, they had.

The doctor continued outlining the work they'd done on the arteries to 'support the healing' that had already taken place. Further x-rays had also cleared the stab wounds of any metal fragments and she explained how it was not uncommon for a knife tip to break off during such attacks. The wounds had been stitched both internally and externally to keep them closed. He'd also been given a large dose of antibiotics even though he was showing no signs of infection. The painkillers he was on were most welcome, the pain he'd been living with the last few days was reduced to a mere discomfort that he could dismiss.

"Those wounds were life threatening," Dr Blackmore summarised. She knew the very bare bones of his case, that he'd been held against his will for a number of days, injured and treated during that time. "Whoever was looking after you did a good job."

"Advanced care paramedic," Don supplied.

"A good one," the doctor announced. She made a few more notations on the chart. "He or she should consider taking their career further."

Don shook his head and was reminded of his assessment the night before; Paul had no future other than being on the run. "Offender," Don finally said.

"That's too bad," she said sadly. The agent that had come in with her patient last night had not mentioned that. She hung the chart back in its place and put her pen away. "Well, I think you'll need to stay with us for a few more days. Depending on how things are going after that we should be able to send you home."

"Thanks, Doc," Don said as the woman finished, more than pleased with that news.

The rest of the day he spent resting, lulled to sleep more than once by the painkillers. In between the naps he filled in a few more blanks for his family but still shied away from telling them about the previous morning as well as Nelson's immediate reaction after he'd shot Brad.

.

* * *

.

Don saw David appear at the door to his hospital room. It was the afternoon of the second day after his release and first time he'd seen David after being loaded into the ambulance.

"Hey, Don," David started. He saw how Charlie and Alan looked at him and hesitated. "Should I come back?"

"No," Don said, motioning for David to come in. "They aren't happy you didn't tell them about what happened with Brad."

"Oh," David said, turning to the other two Eppes men. "Sorry, Mr Eppes, Charlie, but I didn't want you to lose hope."

They'd had time to think on it but were still far from happy, hence the look as David came in. Charlie spoke up, "We understand, David, but I think we would have preferred to know."

"That's hindsight talking," Don said. "David, thank-you."

David relaxed at the acknowledgement that he'd been right and moved closer, "How are you doing?"

"Better," he said in summary before giving David a run down on what the doctor had said the day before.

"So it's lucky, in a way, that Paul was there," David said when his boss finished with the update from the doctor today. He'd had to add the qualifier, from what little he knew from his quick debrief with Don after Nelson had let them go he figured if Paul hadn't been helping his father Don might not been taken in the first place.

"Yes, he saved my life."

"It might go some way to reducing his sentence."

"Any sign of them?" Don asked.

David shook his head, "By the time we got enough crews into the area we figure they were already long gone."

Don knew what was eating at David, "You did the right thing."

David had not intentionally acceded to Paul's request to delay calling it in but they had ended up with a five or so minute head start before the alarm was raised. The moment Nelson and Paul had driven off he'd collected the bag containing Don's effects and had helped Don to his car. Driving quickly he'd taken random turns until about a mile or so was behind them and they were parked in a vacant carport beside a random house. Only then had he got his phone switched on and contacted Control. It had been a concern for them both that Nelson could come back; moving to where they couldn't be found had ensured their safety while they waited for help to arrive. That Nelson and his son were afforded a head start was an unfortunate consequence.

"I know," David finally acknowledged. "We found the car yesterday morning in Moreno Valley and we're running down all the reported thefts in that area."

Don wasn't so sure investigating the thefts would lead anywhere. Nelson had planned his kidnapping too well to have not had an exit strategy. The specific trip to Corona left him suspecting Nelson had stashed a third car somewhere nearby. Corona also offered easy escape routes in four totally different directions making it that much harder to lock down, no matter how quickly reinforcements could be called in.

"The cabin?" Don asked. Whilst waiting for back-up that night he'd told David where it was, more for the preservation of evidence rather than any suspicion the Nelsons would return there.

"We had people there within a few hours but there was no sign they'd been back. We had a team set up watching for them in case they returned but as of about midday today we've called it. Forensics is going over it all now."

Don interpreted the slightly guilty look David was shooting him. They needed his statement or at the very least a detailed briefing on what had happened so they could better assess the evidence they turned up. It was going to be hard, harder than telling his family as he would have to go into things he still didn't feel up to talking about yet, "I'll give a statement tomorrow afternoon, David."

"Are you sure you're up to that so soon?" Alan asked, leaning forward in concern. He knew there was something big that his son had left out of his tale the day before.

"It has to be done," Don said. His family knew he'd made the call but he added for David's benefit, "I'll talk to Bradford in the morning first."

The next morning when Bradford arrived his family reluctantly left him alone. They weren't happy with his insistence that they stay away for the rest of the day, but he didn't want them walking in during his statement. Afterwards he expected he was going to need his space.

As Don had expected his session with Bradford was draining. First there was the fact he'd been stabbed again and how he'd killed the accomplice. Bradford had already heard about the manner of the accomplice's death, the shots to the face rather than centre mass as agents were trained and what that meant psychologically. Don had reacted not as a LEO but as a victim and that distressed him. Bradford told him his reaction was totally understandable and reasonable under the circumstances but he knew it would take time to process.

He then went over Brad's shooting and found that whilst he'd not consciously been thinking on it after pushing it away the day afterwards he'd already come to accept he'd done the right thing. It was still difficult to detail and the killing of both men was still a weight on his soul but Bradford provided support. Going over what had happened with Bradford cemented that he'd been justified in both cases. He had no doubts that the review by the shooting team as well as the required re-enactment were going to be traumatic but he was at least going to be able to go into it without doubt or second guessing himself.

Moving on to Nelson's reaction immediately after the shooting and the long days that followed, culminating in the aborted execution that final morning was what drained him the most. It was going to take more than a couple of hours to clear his emotions on that. Since his release he'd been mostly numb, but he knew needed to work through the anxiety of those days waiting under threat, the fear and acceptance he'd felt when he'd been taken outside to the anger that burned at him afterwards. Instead he ended up spending more time talking on his reactions to being handcuffed that final time than on the real issues but Bradford was as understanding as ever and didn't push him at this early stage. There would be time enough to sort everything out in future sessions, for now Bradford helped him prepare for the afternoon.

After Bradford left he managed an hour's sleep before David arrived with a second agent he identified as the lead investigator for the case. Given their close working relationship and their friendship, as well as his own involvement as negotiator and briefly as a hostage himself David was not able to run this stage of the investigation as he would have otherwise.

Once they were ready with the recorder Don started from the moment he had entered the basement of his building and took them through to David's interception of their car at Highland. The time with Bradford enabled him to go through the shootings but he still struggled to give enough detail about the final morning for them to work with. It was finally done as darkness fell. He would have to go through it all again several times he knew, expanding on the detail to get a formal statement completed for the case file but it could wait.

Agent Tomlinson left first, giving David some time alone with Don.

"Are you okay, Don?"

Don looked up at him and gave an honest answer, "No. Not yet, but I will be."

"Give yourself time, you've been through a lot. I can't imagine what that was like, what he did. No, sorry!" David cut himself off at the look that crossed Don's face. "I didn't mean to-"

Don held up his hand, "I know. It's just hard, okay?"

"Man, I'm so sorry."

"David, he wasn't exactly kind to you either," Don pointed out remembering David's distress during the phone call the morning after Brad's death.

David waved his hand across in front of him, "That hardly compares. I think I should go and you need to rest. Will you be okay or should I call Charlie or your father?"

"Will I do?"

Don and David looked to the door. David stepped back as Robin rushed in.

"Hey, sweetie," Don breathed.

David waved his goodbye from behind Robin and quickly headed out, pulling the door mostly to.

Robin didn't notice the other agent's departure, stopping at Don's side and taking his right hand. "Don, I'm so sorry."

He reached up with his left hand, pulling a lock of hair away from the side of her face. She leaned into his palm a moment. "It's okay. I was glad you were there, safe."

"I should have been here," Robin insisted. She hitched herself up onto the side of the bed and leaned over carefully to kiss him.

He returned the kiss with interest, pulling her down to him with his good arm. When they finally broke apart he was smiling for the first time in what felt like forever, "Thank-you."

She returned his gesture from earlier, brushing at the hair at his temples as she sat back. "For what? Staying at some stupid conference when I should have been here?"

"Yes. For that, and this," he added, pulling her down again. Her touch could almost make him forget the last week, something he needed after having just gone through it all for David and Agent Tomlinson. He'd thought he'd want to be left alone but now that Robin was here he couldn't imagine anything else.

An orderly interrupted them bringing in Don's dinner but they waved off his stammered apologies. He ducked out to return with a second cup and another small pot of coffee as an unnecessary further apology.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, Ms Brooks?" Don asked politely.

"Well, I don't know, Mr Eppes. Can we afford to eat here?"

"For a special occasion like this? I'll mortgage my apartment," he joked, realising at that moment how badly he needed this.

"In that case, I can hardly refuse," she said, manoeuvring the table across to where they could both reach what it held. "I hear they do the best jelly cups."

.

* * *

.

It was six months later when Don got the call. He didn't recognise the voice or the male caller's name at first, "Paul who?"

"_Paul Nelson,"_ the man responded. He hesitated a while as if expecting to be hung up on, _"Are you still there, Agent?"_

Don dropped his voice, he was in the office and didn't want the call interrupted. "What do you want?"

"_We wanted to know how you were doing."_

It had taken a fair few sessions with Bradford, the initial ones daily, but Don had regained his composure and control relatively quickly. The understanding that he'd been swinging between both the Stockholm and London Syndromes explained why his emotions had rollercoastered so badly. Given the circumstances Bradford had insisted it had been perfectly reasonable for the two conflicting syndromes to exist at the same time, particularly given the differences in the way Nelson and his son had treated him after Brad's death. Some research and he'd had to accept it made sense. He was cleared to return to desk duties after the first month as his physical wounds were almost healed and was back doing what he did best after a little over two. He still had the occasional flashback but the image he'd cultivated that final morning, the pre-sunrise sky, worked wonders to calm him.

Answering Paul's question was too personal so he asked one of his own, "How is your father?"

"_Much better,"_ Paul reported. _"It shouldn't hurt to tell you this now but we visited Brad's grave a while back. That helped."_

The surveillance at the graveyard had been pulled after the first two weeks as a waste of manpower. It had been considered likely the Nelsons would visit the grave but they couldn't afford to maintain the watch indefinitely even given the seriousness of the case. There was a time-lapse surveillance camera and Don made a note for Agent Tomlinson to pull the images. It was meant to be checked regularly which suggested the gravesite visit may have been more recent than Paul was suggesting. Whilst the images probably wouldn't really help them to track down the two fugitives it was worth getting a recent look at their appearances.

"Good," Don finally said, and found somewhat to his surprise he meant it. "Is your father there?"

"_He's listening, but doesn't want to talk to you,"_ Paul answered.

"I understand," he said. He didn't want to talk to the man either and wasn't entirely sure why he'd asked the question. He was still more than happy to never see the man again.

"_Thank-you for not hanging up," _Paul said quickly. _"I don't mean to be rude but it's time to go. We won't call again, we just wanted to be sure you were okay. Good-bye."_

Don was left looking at his cell as the call disconnected.

He took a moment before he started the process to have the call traced even though he didn't expect any useable result. He then typed up a statement with the conversation as best he recalled it and uploaded it to the electronic file. Finally he sent an email to Agent Tomlinson with the update. That done he shut everything down and after a brief explanation to a somewhat alarmed David he took an early mark.

Without quite understanding why, he felt surprisingly good.

END

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_**A/N:** All done and dusted. Thank-you all for reading and commenting._


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